Convince Me
by Philosopher Fictionist
Summary: FINISHED, but... a sequel is in the works... R for language, violence, and the good stuff. Reviews welcome, even bad ones if they're honest.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

Prologue

He still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of someone sleeping next to him. Sure, she was just a kid, and there was nothing between him, but he was always edgy. Always on alert. He'd been like that for as long as he could remember. Granted, he couldn't remember what life was like before Slam, or even before the shine job. But still. There was being alert and being edgy. 

This was edgy. Getting close enough to someone to turn his back on them while he slept wasn't something he thought he could get used to easily. Even if it was her. Even though she idolized him and he knew she would never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally anyway. 

            She had a good head on her shoulders, he had to give her that. But she was still just a kid. And kids make mistakes. Inadvertent mistakes, but mistakes all the same. He was just waiting for the moment she got careless and a pack of mercs broke down the door to their little studio apartment in the slums. 

            He felt bad about making her live here, but he felt comfortable here. This was his element – trouble around every corner. It made him stay the way he was. It made him stay who he was. He remembered. But he still felt guilty about making her live in this shithole, felt guilty for risking her life for his comfort zone, felt guilty for bringing her along and risking her life just being near him, even if it was what she wanted.

            He sighed heavily, and tensed as she shifted and pressed her back closer to his. His brow furrowed. Even in her sleep, she was nervous. He had no right to bring her here, take the chance on someone hurting her just for being associated with him, take the chance on getting too close and hurting her himself. That's when he made his decision.

***

            Jack stared up at the stars, wondering which planet out there Riddick had settled down on. She still hurt, but he had good reason to leave her. He'd explained it all to her, gave her a ton of money (or so she thought – she quickly learned that money doesn't last long), and bought her a one-way ticket to a nice, safe planet. She was lonelier than she'd ever been, even after her parents died. 

            "What the hell was I thinking, anyway?" She asked herself. No answer was granted her, and she just shook her head, pulling her knees in tighter to her chest. Her ass was going numb from sitting on the windowsill so long, but she didn't care. It was as though the closer she was to the stars, the closer she was to him. She'd been thinking they would go off together, fall in love, and live happily ever after hopping from planet to planet, barely escaping danger, but still together forever. She knew it was sappy and stupid, but sometimes she hoped he'd come back for just that reason. She couldn't honestly say what she would really do if he mysteriously tracked her down and showed up on her doorstep, but she could dream. And dreams were so much better than real life sometimes.

            She'd gotten a job in a mechanic's shop as an apprentice. It was what she thought Riddick would have wanted her to do – keep her cover and lead an inconspicuous life. She still masqueraded as a male, and thanked her genes that she turned out to be a slight bloomer and not just a late one. She still had to bind her chest – not so tightly that she couldn't breathe, thank God for that – and she'd gotten used to the constricting feeling of the wraps. She didn't date, since she'd have to date girls to keep her cover going, so she just engrossed herself in her work. Work that, in actuality, was so hard and physical that her body started looking more and more male – muscular, toned arms and legs, a flat, toned stomach. To the casual glance, she was male. Even a girl checking her out in a bar would have trouble discerning between the very built female she'd become and the thin but toned male she was pretending to be.

            Life was monotonous and boring, but at least she was alive. She still suffered through horrible nightmares, thrashing around on her bed and tangling the covers, only to wake to a dimmed, empty room, wishing Riddick was there by her side to swat at her and gruff at her to go back to sleep, that it was only a dream.

            She hadn't stayed on the planet he'd sent her to. It wasn't that she didn't like it. More like she didn't want to embrace the comfortable life he'd tried so hard to give her. She'd wanted to go to Earth – she'd heard numerous stories about it – but there was currently a serious, worldwide war going on there, and all passage and entrance was heavily monitored and prohibited to common folk. The only people allowed there were convicts, for punishment, and military, for reinforcement when needed by the accepted party. Instead, she'd settled for Kallipolis, a similar planet fashioned after the wishes of the ancient philosopher Plato. Granted, the government hadn't remained the way it began, the way Plato had set forth in _The Republic_, but it was relatively safe, and heavily stressed equality. Not like she'd need an equal sexes clause, parading around as a male. She'd gone there because it was the last place he'd look for her. The last place he would have wanted her to go. In a way, she dreamed of the day he'd come waltzing back into her life, but at the same time, she was terrified of that moment. A strange dichotomy, but one she'd come to accept and embrace.

Chapter 1

            "Hey, Marty," Jack said with little enthusiasm as she dropped her toolbox on the ground next to her locker. The garage was large enough for them to have their own lockers, in case they needed to change after work. Around the corner was a public shower, which she never used, fearing someone would walk in and discover her secret.

            "Hey, Jack," Marty returned, giving her the usual nod only men can pull off. She let a small smile curve her lips. "Got a long list of shit to work on today," he grunted, nodding at the hologram board, on which was scribbled six or seven jobs that would be coming in before lunch and expected to be finished by the end of the day. She sighed heavily. "We're gonna have you work on the smaller stuff on your own." She perked up at that.

            "Really?"

            "Yeah," Marty said quietly, wiping grease off his hands on an already greasy towel. He succeeded in smearing it around, but not really cleaning anything. "We don't have the manpower to have you sitting in on the bigger stuff today. You'll get the first two. Gotta have them done by six, understand?" She nodded, glancing over the virtual work orders quickly. Nothing major. One tune-up and a carburetor rebuild. No biggie.

            "Yeah, I can handle that. Probably get it done before four," she said.

            "Don't overestimate yourself," Marty warned. She grinned.

            "Don't underestimate myself, either, right?" He snickered and nodded. She'd come to like Marty. He was hard to please at first, but she'd eventually gotten him to loosen up. Hell, they'd even gone out for beers after work on occasion. 

            She'd learned from Riddick not to let anyone get too close. She hadn't yet, and wasn't about to now. She'd come too far to let anyone in. She was afraid of being hurt – again – and afraid of someone turning on her. The only way someone can truly turn on you is by getting close enough to know your weaknesses. 

            At noon, she'd just gotten back from her lunch break, which consisted of a cucumber sandwich and what she called "green juice," after its color. It was a blend of green vegetables and fruits. A healthy and surprisingly tasty side to a boring sandwich. After a quick smoke, she crawled back under the hood of her first project to finish the last of the tune up.

            The shuffling of feet didn't surprise her; it was a busy garage and the absence of shuffling feet would have been unusual enough to get nervous over. It was the voice that made her freeze, save the slight trembling, and almost drop a socket wrench on her forehead. It fell to a clatter on the floor after she managed to deflect its fall.

            "Jesus fuckin' Christ!" She grunted, shifting to snatch it back up.

            "Everything okay down there?" She heard Jeffrey ask. 

            "Nearly punched a hole in my forehead with this God damn socket wrench, but yeah, I didn't break anything." She heard him laugh lightly and let her hand snake around the inside of the tire to flip him off, only making him laugh harder. She pretended to go back to work, listening in to the conversation happening above her. 

            "So you're looking for a mechanic, huh?" Jeff asked. No answer from the other man. She supposed he just nodded. "Well, uh, most of our guys have been around here for a while. Don't think they'd really be up for leaving," Jeff continued.

            "No females?" She shuddered at the voice. 

            "Nah. It's not like we wouldn't hire them because of it, they either just don't stick around very long or don't want to be here in the first place," Jeff said. _Hah,_ Jack thought, _that's what you think._ She considered six months a lot longer than the "very long" Jeff was referring to. The mystery man grunted, seemingly frustrated.

            "No offense," he said, "but I wasn't really looking for someone really established."

            "What were you looking for?" She heard Marty chime in from under the truck next to her. She smirked. He was protective of his crew. Identities, employment… just plain protective in general.

            "Someone new," came the reply. "Someone I can train."

            "Well, everyone here has been trained already," Marty interjected, rolling out from under his project to sit up and talk to the man face-to-face. 

            "I'm not trying to steal your crew, Marty," the man said. "I'm just putting out the word that I have an opening for a mechanic on a new ship – a ship that needs a lot of work before I can start my runs, by the way – and wondered if anyone here wanted a chance at something new for a while." Jack screwed all her courage together.

            "What kind of 'a lot of work' are we talking here?" she asked, still working on her project. 

            "Stay out of this, Jack," she heard Marty warn. She smirked. 

            "I'm out of it," she returned, breaking into a wide grin at the grunt of satisfaction she received from Marty.

            "Electrical, mostly. Some engine work, some programming, some superficial repair. Nothing anyone here couldn't handle," came the answer to her question.

            An unsettling pause came over the bunch. The lack of sound making everyone in the room uncomfortable. Feet shuffled, and she relaxed a little.

            "Well," the man said, "I'll leave a phone number here, in case you get anyone asking for work you can't use."

            "If I can't use him, you can't either," Jeff said, a cocky smile in his voice.

            "Don't be an ass, Jeff," Jack groaned.

            "It's my middle name."

            "Yeah, your mom musta been psycho or something," Jack said with a smile. "Oh, no… wait. That's psychic, right?" She dodged the bolt he bounced off the floor and under the vehicle she was lying under. 

            "You'll fix this if you fuck it up, Jeff," she warned.

            "Well, in case you change your mind, here's my number," the man finished, handing a sliver of paper to Jeff. She watched his feet move across the floor and out the garage door before sliding out from under the car. 

            "What's the deal, Marty?" She asked. 

            "Don't have a good feeling about him," he shrugged. 

            "Is it that or you just don't want to lose your best apprentice?" she pressed with a grin.

            "I'll fire my best apprentice if he doesn't get back to work soon," Marty retorted, with a twisted smirk. She held up her hands in mock surrender and slid back under the car.

***

            She didn't usually go to bars after work. Not by herself, anyway. Tonight, though, she had some demons to drown. She hadn't been able to get that voice out of her head. As she stared into space, rubbing the bruise that had surfaced from deflecting the falling socket wrench that nearly claimed her consciousness, she didn't notice the man standing directly behind her. She lurched back into reality as the chair next to her scraped across the floor, the man now occupying it looking at her expectantly. She looked him over, stopping at his shoes. She looked back up at him, still in character, still male on the outside.

            "Marty'll have your ass if he knows you're stalking his employees," she warned. 

            "I can deal with Marty," he answered. She barely managed to confine the shiver threatening to break. 

            "I don't know about that," she said quickly, reaching out to grasp her beer.

            "I pay well," he added.

            "I bet you do," she followed. It was as though she knew exactly what he was going to say and what she would say in response.

            "Better than Marty." Her eyes met his, and her spirits fell on the inside. On the outside, she was fuming.

            "First off, you don't know what Marty's paying me, and second, what the fuck makes you think I give a shit anyway?" The question hung in the air, as though it were still attached to her chin. He smirked, only succeeding in making the fuming outside start taking over the dejected inside. 

            "I know what Marty's paying you, and I'm going to pay you double." She shook her head, turning her attention to a swarm of females that just walked into the bar. Had to play every aspect of the part, and all. "Plus commissions." She paused.

            "Whatever you're into, I don't want a part of it," she stated firmly. "Probably illegal anyway." He snickered, and her fingers tightened around her glass, squeaking against the sweat forming from the humidity. 

            "You're right," he said calmly, leaning back in his chair. "It is illegal." She snorted with a nod.

            "Figured as much," she grumbled. He sighed and leaned close to her, invading her space, putting her on edge.

            "Which means it pays more, and if you're getting commissions, I'm willing to bet you're gonna make four times what Marty's paying you." She placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back into his chair.

            "You must be really comfortable with yourself to be able to lean into a guy like that," she challenged. He just stared back at her, as if he were expecting something from her. 

            "How old are you?" he asked. She let her eyebrow raise. "Twenty? Twenty-one?"

            "What's it matter?"

            "I've missed you, Jack," he said quietly, his face unreadable. She swallowed down the choking feeling.

            "You got the wrong person, Mister," she stammered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

            "Do I?" She avoided his stare, knowing he would see right through her if he could see her eyes. She scrounged up all the hate she had for him, what was usually hidden behind her longing for him and missing him, and directed it straight through her eyes. 

            "Yeah," she stated through gritted teeth. "You do." She threw herself out of the chair to stand and walk away.

            "See, I don't think I do, Jack." She waved him off over her shoulder. "No man has an ass like that," he finished. She paused and turned slowly, an incredulous look on her face. This time, the surprise wasn't an act, and neither was the anger. She rushed him, toppling his chair over onto its back, pinning him down, her forearm on his throat. 

            "You got the wrong guy," she warned, her voice low and warning. "You come around me or the shop again pullin' that shit and I'll personally beat the shit out of you, you got that?" He only smiled up at her. She gave him a hard shove into the ground before getting up, brushing herself off, and walking away, leaving him in the floor under the stares of everyone else in the bar. 

            The minute she was behind the door of her apartment, she twisted the locks so hard her knuckles cracked and slid to the floor, finally able to let the tears break free. She stifled a sob, only to turn it into a pathetic, wet snort, and then gave up, giving in to the fear, sadness, elation, and anger. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

            Jack awoke groggily, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying herself to sleep. She groaned and rolled over, staring at the glowing green numbers on her alarm clock. She still had three hours before the damn thing would go off. _Fuck._ She sighed and threw the covers off, standing on tired, achy legs. 

            She sat on the counter and threw a slice of bread into the toaster and washed a knife to spread cream cheese with. No need for plates – she just grabbed the toast out of the air as it popped and juggled it between hands until it was cool enough to handle. A smattering of cream cheese, and then it was gone. She brushed the crumbs off her hands and into the sink and slid off the counter to her feet, shuffling into the living room.

            Once her wraps and gloves were secure, she went at it against the punching bag. The harder she punched, the more her emotions melted away and, finally dissipated after two hours of beating up a nameless, expressionless, inhuman punching bag that was holding its stuffing in with duct tape. Struggling to get her breathing under control, she headed to the shower and twisted the knob to start the water. It never got hotter than warm, but she didn't need hot water. She didn't shave, didn't waste time, didn't use any of that smelly stuff. Just like a guy's shower. Had to play the part and all. The faster her shower, the less time she had to deal with a female body, and the sooner she could get back to the existence she'd become comfortable with, that had saved her life. 

            She dressed quickly, pulling a ratty baseball cap over her short hair. Her dirty boots followed, and then her coveralls. It was going to be a cold one today. She grabbed her toolbox and locked the door behind her, shoving her free hand into the deep pockets of her coveralls, thankful she'd sprung for the more expensive quilted one. 

            Marty paid her well, but it only barely covered her apartment, utilities, and food. She had to walk to work. She didn't mind, except on cold days like this. She hunkered down into her navy coveralls, preparing herself for the wind hiding behind the corner. Bracing herself, she rounded the corner and ran into something hard, feeling herself reel backwards a few steps. 

            "Jesus," she gasped. "Excuse you."

            "My sincerest apologies." She froze, having to force herself to look up.

            "Get the fuck away from me," she spat, shoving past him and into that damn wind. 

            "I've spent two years tracking you down, Jack," he called after her. She felt him following her and sped up.

            "You've wasted two years tracking down the wrong Jack," she retorted. "How many Jacks are there in the charted world, huh?"

            "So how was Mena?"

            "Never been there," she replied without skipping a beat. How the hell did he know she'd been there? Everything about this guy said it was really him, except his eyes. That and the hair. Almost shaved, but enough to be visible, and a full goatee. It couldn't be him. She didn't know how he knew where she'd been, and she wasn't about to let him find out he was right. _Creep._ "Leave me alone," she finished.

            "Jesus, Jack." She shook her head and walked even faster, her breath coming in short clouds of fog. Just a few more steps until she was at the garage, and all would be well. _Shit_. He followed her through the door.

            "Marty, get this guy off my back," she ordered, dropping her toolbox on the ground. Marty looked up from under the hood of a vehicle and scowled.

            "You messin' with my crew?" He asked, standing up. He looked over at Jack and then back at the man barging into the garage. "Don't be messin' with my guys or you'll have to deal with all of us," Marty warned. Jack smirked and opened her toolbox, fitting together a socket wrench, her forearm throbbing at the memory of the tool. She cringed at the man's laugh.

            "I might be messin' with your crew, but I ain't messin' with any of your guys," the man stated, a playful grin sliding across his features. It didn't look natural. Didn't fit him.

            "How do you figure?" Jeff asked, taking a stance beside Jack. Three pairs of eyes stared back at the man so sure of himself, ready to go at it. He raised a finger to point at Jack. 

            "Jack's not a guy," he said simply. 

            "Like hell," Marty spat. "You blind or something?" The sound of the socket wrench bouncing off a metal toolbox made three pairs of eyes focus on Jack. 

            "Well, let's see here," the man said. "She's got no shaving shadow on her face, awfully small for a guy, even if she is pretty built." He cocked his head to the side. "Bet she never takes a shower in there, either, huh?" She could feel Marty and Jeff staring at her, no, through her. 

            "He's fuckin' crazy," was all she could think to say. "Asshole followed me to a bar last night and started in with this shit."

            "Jack?" Jeff asked.

            "Yeah, I laid into him. Roughed him up a little, but evidently he didn't get the picture."

            "You wanna tell me what the hell's—"

            "He thinks I'm some girl he knows, tracked down," she interrupted Marty, "And now he's following me all over town. Better back off, you motherfucker," she warned. 

            "You're looking a little flushed, Jacqueline," the man smiled. "Is it bikinis or a thong today?"

            "Boxerbriefs, you flying ignoramus," she spat.

            "Jack," Marty's voice broke into her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyebrow was cocked. "You got something to tell us?"

            "You're gonna believe him over me?" she asked, incredulous. "I've busted my ass here for six fucking months, ten hours a day, and you're gonna believe this motherfucker, who just walked into this garage yesterday and tried to steal your crew, and _then_ followed me to a fucking bar and pulled this shit there? Jesus fucking Christ, guys. This is _me._" They just looked at her. She sighed and flopped onto the bench behind her. "You guys know me." She shook her head. "He doesn't."

            "You haven't changed a bit, Jack," was all the man said. She stared up at him before lurching from her seat and hurling herself at him, managing to make contact between her fist and his jaw before Jeff got a hold of her, tearing her away from him.

            "Fuck you!" she yelled, struggling against Jeff's hold on her. "You don't know shit about me. Fuck off!"

            "Leave," Marty said, wrenching the door open and shoving the man toward it. "Get the fuck out and don't come back." The man held up his hands and turned. The door was slammed, and Jeff let go of Jack, letting her fall to a heap in the floor. She bit the tears back, letting them think her breath was heaving from the physical exertion. 

            "Jack?" Jeff asked. 

            "I'm fine," she lied. "Just let me catch my breath."

            "We still would have hired you," Marty said gently. 

            "What the fuck are you talking about?" she demanded between gasps of breath.

            "You know how it is here," he said, "all equal and everything." She stared up at him.

            "Great," she laughed. She stood and brushed herself off, wavering on her feet just a bit. "You actually believe that lying son of a bitch?" Marty's eyes gave him away. She looked back at Jeff. "You too?" He nodded slightly. She shook her head. "Just fucking great." She grabbed the socket wrench she dropped from its resting place under a stationary toolbox and placed it in her own. "Fucking great," she mumbled. She slammed the drawer shut, and then the lid, and heaved it off the ground. 

            "You still work here, Jack," Marty said, glancing at her toolbox.

            "I can't work with people who don't believe me," she spat back, scowling. She brushed past him toward the door.

            "Jack, please," Jeff pleaded quietly. She stopped, her back still facing them. "We can't do this without you." She shook her head with a silent snicker.

            "You did fine before I got here, Jeff. You'll deal."

            "Please stay," Marty said quickly. "At least for a while." She shook her head and took another step. "He's probably still out there." She stopped again. "Let's get to work, Jack. Got a huge list of shit to get done today. You pulled three on your own. Bigger than yesterday." She turned to him. He smiled slightly. Jeff smiled down at her as well. She scowled back up at him.

            "Wipe that smartass grin off your face, you shitfaced motherfucker," she spat. His smile fell, but that sympathetic look in his eyes didn't fade. She shook her head and threw her toolbox to the floor and knelt to dig through it. She started at Marty's hand on her shoulder.

            "Do you know him?" She sighed. No use now.

            "I thought I did." He waited, his hand still making her nervous. Physical contact was something she'd gotten used to not encountering. "Not who I thought he was."

            "Who did you think it was?" Jeff asked, sitting on the bench next to where she was crouching.

            "No one," she mumbled. They didn't leave soon enough for her taste, and she threw the anger into her work. The hours passed, and she didn't stop, didn't slow down, didn't take a break. If the engine had been in the car she was working on, she wouldn't have noticed Jeff peering down at her. Her eyebrow rose, the scowl still remaining on her face.

            "Smoke?" he asked. She nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. She followed him out the back door, snapping up her coveralls. They lit up and leaned against the wall, not looking at each other. She snickered out of nowhere, and Jeff looked over at her, startled. She was staring down at her hand, turning the cigarette over between her fingers, just looking at it, feeling him looking at her.

            "Cracks me up," she said quietly.

            "What does?" Jeff asked.

            "Meat's illegal, but cigarettes aren't." He laughed and shook his head.

            "Crazy place, huh?" She nodded, falling silent again. He just watched her, taking her in, in light of this new revelation. Thinking now about it, she was too pretty to be a guy. But without makeup and masses of hair, she pulled off guyness believably. 

            "You would have treated me differently," she said finally, not looking over at him. His eyebrow rose. "If you'd known I was a girl." He looked away, back out into the distance.

            "I suppose, maybe," he said quietly. "But you never gave us the chance, now, did you?" She smiled.

            "Thank God for that." He smiled back at her and dropped his cigarette, snuffing it out under his shoe. 

            "Nice to meet you, Jacqueline," he said. She rolled her eyes.

            "You've known _me_ all along, and if you call me that again, I'll rip off your nuts and shove them down your throat." He laughed and pulled the door open. She was thankful he didn't bother holding it open for her to go in first. She would have slugged him for that.

***

            "I'm out, Jack," Marty called. She wiggled a foot from under the car, signaling that she heard him. 

            "Jeff still here?" she asked, pausing in her work to hear his answer.

            "No, he left a while ago. Said he kicked your foot to let you know, but you didn't answer." She snickered.

            "So that's what that was for, huh? I thought he just tripped over me." Marty laughed.

            "You know Jeff." 

            "Yeah, I know Jeff," she repeated with a heavy sigh. 

            "Look, Jack," Marty started. She rolled out from under the car to look at him. "I want you to stay." She smiled weakly, letting her eyes fall to a spot of grease on the garage floor. "You're a damn good mechanic, regardless." She nodded slightly. "I mean it, Jack." She looked up at him. "I need you."

            "Sure you want to keep me?" He smiled.

            "Hell, I'll even put in a shower just for you." Her eyebrow rose. "Private changing stall and door and everything." She smiled.

            "You don't have to do that," she countered.

            "I know." He nodded, tossing a rag into a bin. "You deserve it though."

            "I don't want special treatment, Marty," she insisted, her face serious. 

            "So consider it a bonus." She snickered and shook her head, waving him out the door as she rolled herself back under her current project. She sighed and started back in. She had a long ways to go on this piece of junk, and it had to be ready by nine the following morning. Overtime was nice, though.

            She was about an hour away from being done, assuming nothing catastrophic was hiding under the hood, when the lights went out. 

            "Son of a bitch," she muttered, rolling out from under the car and smacking into her toolbox. "Ow, fuck," she groaned, rubbing her head. "That'll leave a mark." She pulled open a drawer and fumbled around, searching for her flashlight. It clicked on, and she dropped it with a shaky gasp. She backed up, doing the crab walk, until she hit the wall, sinking to the floor. The flashlight cast an eerie glow in the room, barely enough to see what was happening. 

            The intruder was dressed in all black, looming over her, a ski mask hiding all but the eyes. Unreadable chocolate orbs staring down at her. She stood slowly, clutching a hammer behind her back, shaking so badly she had to clutch it tightly enough to whiten her knuckles. She just stared. She jumped as the intruder moved his arm, pressing herself closer to the wall as the fingers grasped the mask and pulled it off. The hammer dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

            "I thought maybe you didn't recognize me before," he said calmly.

            "Get away from me," she stammered. He looked down at the hammer behind her feet.

            "Now, what were you planning on doing with that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. 

            "Get the fuck away from me," she repeated, trembling so hard she couldn't move away from him. He took two steps closer to her, watching her press closer to the wall. With each step he took toward her, she tried to back up further, not really going anywhere, but feeling like she was. She was plastered against the wall, and he was inches away from her, not touching, but she still felt him. Too close for comfort. She shivered. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of her head, and she whimpered, a pathetic squeaking sound that gave away her fear.

            "I won't hurt you," he whispered. Her eyebrow twitched downward slightly. She was visibly quivering. 

            "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice trembling as badly as she was.  He blinked.

            "I don't know, Jack." She shuddered violently. He shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing here." He let his nose touch hers, but she jerked away quickly, turning her head to the side. He sighed and turned her chin toward him. She fought, but he won. "C'mon, Jack." She looked like she was about ready to cry. "You know I could never hurt you." Another pathetic whimper. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. She couldn't pull back anywhere, so she just stood there, willing him to let her go. "It's me," he whispered. His breath fanned out over her face, making her lips tingle, raising goose bumps all over her skin.

            "This is a dream," she whispered, scrunching her eyes shut. "This is not happening, Jack. You smacked your head when the lights went out. You're still lying in the floor, conked out, dreaming all this up. This is not—" She was cut off by his lips on hers. Her eyes slammed open and reality hit her like an anvil falling off a ten-story scaffolding: this is not a dream. She wrenched her lips from his and darted under his arm, running toward the door. _Almost there, Jack,_ she pushed,_ just a few more steps and…_

            "Hungh!" His arms went around her waist, pulling her to the floor. She landed on her back under him. She let out a scream, and he clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled against him, but she was pinned under his weight, one hand holding her arms above her head, the other still clamped over her mouth. He shook his head, giving her a look that sent chills up her spine. She shuddered against him.

            "Don't. Scream," he commanded in two distinct sentences. She nodded, her eyes wide, and he removed his hand, keeping it hovering over her just in case. "Now, I'm gonna let you up," he said slowly, "and you're not going to run, right?" She nodded. He hoisted himself off the ground, pulling her to her feet. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and backed up a few steps.

            "Who are you?" she asked quietly. He rubbed his head, closing his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose. She bolted again, but he caught her with one arm, trapping her against his chest between solid arms.

            "You said you weren't going to run," he quipped, looking down at her. Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to throw herself backward out of his grasp, and finally giving up. "You're making this a lot harder than I anticipated, Jack," he noted. 

            "How the hell do you know my name?" she demanded. His eyebrow rose. 

            "Close your eyes." She just stared up at him.

            "I'm not doing shit until you—"

            "Close your eyes," he repeated more firmly. She jumped, and then complied. "Five senses, Jack." She shivered again. "Taste."

            "Bile." He smiled. 

            "Feel."

            "In what sense?" she asked. "Emotional? Scared shitless. Tactile? Trapped."

            "Trapped isn't tactile, but okay," he granted. "See?"

            "Nothing," she stated. "You made me close my eyes. Unless you want me to say the inside of my eyelids."

            "Okay, how about hear?"

            "My heart pounding in my ears, the generator buzzing, and a train going by."

            "Smell." She paused, shaking her head. "Smell, Jack, smell. What do you smell?" She shook her head again, weakening. He leaned in close to her ear. "Smell," he repeated.

            "I don't smell anything."

            "Bullshit," he countered. "Jack, what do you smell?" She shook her head. "Olfactory tells you more than sight and hearing combined. Smell for me, Jack." She shook her head, and he waited. He knew she would break soon, but timing was everything. Just as she started to let go, he whispered directly into her ear, letting his lips graze the soft skin of her cheek, "Smell."

            "Riddick," she whispered. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and pulled her tighter against him, sinking to the floor, making her kneel over him. He cradled her head just under his chin.

            "God, I missed you Jack," he whispered, feeling her sob against him. He let his hold on her loosen, and she stayed pressed against him. His fingers trailed up and down her back, finally coming to rest behind her neck, his hand wrapping around either side. She shook her head against him.

            "You shouldn't have come here," she whispered, her words broken between gasps and sobs.

            "I had to," he replied.

            "Why?"

            "I need you." She pulled back, wiping her tears away clumsily with the back of her hand.

            "Mechanics aren't hard to come by," she pointed out.

            "I know," he said quietly. "But I need you." She shook her head, her lip quivering. He let his hand wander up the side of her neck and come to rest on her cheek, brushing the stream of tears dry before letting his lips settle there. Her eyes closed at the contact, letting another stream free down the other cheek. He moved to stop the trickle with another kiss. She shook her head, standing.

            "I can't leave here," she stated, pausing as though she couldn't decide whether or not to say his name. He just looked up at her, waiting for her explanation. "Marty's building me a shower. All for me. Just me," she whispered the last two sentences as though it was the greatest revelation in the world – the answer to all the questions of life. His laughter rumbled through the garage, echoing.

            "Well, that's a shitty excuse," he said, standing. She shook her head.

            "I can't leave," she insisted.

            "Not even for me?" Her eyes snapped up to his.

            "Not even for me," she said, turning his statement. His eyebrow rose at that. She took a breath and paused, pondering. He just waited. "Ever since you left, I—" She paused, watching him switch his weight to the other foot. "Riddick, I—" His ears tingled at the sound of his name on her lips. She looked startled, just by uttering it. She sighed and broke her gaze from his, glancing around the shop. "I've built a life for myself here," she finally finished. He nodded.

            "I can see that." She shook her head.

            "I can't just throw all of it away." His cheek twitched. "Not to say that, um, going off with you or whatever would be throwing it away, but," she said quickly, then stopping abruptly with a heavy sigh. "I've changed." He nodded. "You've done fine without me for seven and a half years. You don't need me, Riddick." She paused, waiting for him to look at her. "And I don't need you any more, either." His eyes closed, his head turning slightly, as though she'd slapped him. She just watched him, waiting for his response.

            "I can't make you leave, Jack," he said, lowering himself to the bumper of the car behind him. "And I can't make you believe that I've missed you as much as I have." He shook his head. "Hell, it took me six years to make myself believe that." A tear slipped silently down her cheek. "I need you, Jack. I don't know why, but I need you."

            "Convince me."

            "How?" he asked, standing suddenly. "How the hell can I convince you when you won't give me the chance to?" She just stared at him, her eyebrow arched. He sighed. "Give me one week." Confusion spread over her features. "Give me one week to convince you."

            "How do you plan to do that?"

            "Come with me for one week, and if you're not convinced, come back here and live this life you've built for yourself." She inhaled sharply, her eyes falling to the floor. 

            "I need to think about it," she said quietly. He swallowed. "Where will you be?"

            "Port 6, Dock A19," he answered. She nodded.

            "If I'm not there by tomorrow at midnight, leave without me," she instructed. He nodded and watched her go. He kicked the flashlight, sending it spinning into the wall, where the bulb shattered, and he was left standing there. In the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

            She hadn't said a thing all day. Marty and Jeff kept sending looks between them, silently asking if either knew anything, and neither did. Something had happened, and it wasn't just the knowledge of her gender. Something serious had happened, but neither knew how to – or even if they should – ask. Jeff cleared his throat.

            "I'm fine, Jeff," Jack answered quickly, as though she'd read their minds. "Leave it alone." He nodded and went back to work. Those were the only six words she said for the rest of the day. 

            Marty cornered her on her way out, sitting on the bench next to her.

            "Something up?" She shook her head. "Sure?" A nod. "Well, you know you can talk to us if something happened right?" She nodded again. He shrugged and got up to leave. She watched him, as though everything was in slow motion. Once the garage was empty, she sighed and leaned her forehead against her locker. 

            "God damn it," she whispered. Her eyes found the clock. Only four hours to decide. "Fuck."

            She took her time getting home, and didn't bother eating. She wasn't hungry anyway. She just wrapped and gloved up again and went at it. This time, though, the punching bag didn't seem as cathartic. The harder she punched, this time, the angrier she got. What gave him the right to come here and fuck her life up anyway?

            She slumped to the floor and grasped the bag with all her strength. With a final punch, one that cracked her knuckles and jammed her wrist, she stood and headed into the bathroom. 

            An hour later, she was still staring at her reflection. Who was she, really? She recognized the green hair, pale skin, and short, dark blond hair, but other than that, she didn't know who the mirror was reflecting. Had she really changed that much since… her eyes fell to the sink, focusing on a drop of toothpaste hardened to the ceramic. _Since Riddick_? Had his leaving her really had that much of an effect on her? She shook her head and turned the shower on, catching a glimpse of herself as she disrobed. The marks from her chest wrap were bright red. Her forearm and side of her forehead were still bruised from mishaps at work. She made herself look away, not wanting to see that side of herself, making the connected emotions wash down the drain, along with the dirt and grime left over from work. 

***

            _Shit, shit, shit_.

            It was 11:58, and there was still no sign of her. He'd made sure to synchronize his onboard clocks with the watchtower, which was the official time of this region of Kallipolis. He snorted. He should have known she'd be here. His panic resurfaced as another minute turned over. Sixty seconds left and he'd have to follow her order to leave. God, he hated orders. He ran his tongue over dry lips. 

            _Fuck._ Midnight. A chime rang somewhere, and his spirits fell. He rubbed a hand over his head and swore aloud. Maybe he should give her the whole minute making up midnight; wait until 12:01, when midnight was technically over. 

***

            She'd intended to go for a walk – it was no accident she was walking around by herself in the middle of the night. It was, however, not part of her plan to end up here. The docking bay. _How in the hell?_

            She glanced up at the watchtower. 12:02. Riddick would be gone by now. On the runway at least. She sighed. 

            "Can I help you, Mister?" She turned quickly, stifling a gasp. She smiled and sighed.

            "Which way is Port 6?" He looked at her with a quizzical expression.

            "You're standing in the middle of it." Her lips formed a silent oh before she let herself glance around.

            "Any ships on the runway? I don't hear any," she noted. 

            "No, we've got one on standby, just waiting for the captain's request for permission, but this time of night, we don't run scheduled flights." She nodded. "He'll just ask when he's ready, we'll grant permission, and he'll be off." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

            "It wouldn't happen to be Dock A19 on standby, would it?" His eyebrows arched upward.

            "Yes, sir." 

            "Son of a bitch."

            "Something wrong?" he asked. She shook her head.

            "No," she sighed. "Thanks for the information." He nodded and headed back in the direction he was originally heading. She took off her baseball cap and ran her fingers through her short, tangled locks, scratching her scalp before replacing the hat and walking toward port A, swearing with each step. _What the hell am I doing?_

            "Didn't think you were going to show." She stopped in her tracks, not turning. 

            "Didn't think you were supposed to still be here," she returned. He chuckled behind her, then walked past her toward his ship. She just stood where she was and watched him.

            "Had to take a leak," he explained. "Figured I'd save space on my own ride and take advantage of the lovely facilities provided on the ground."

            "Liar," she mumbled. He stopped.

            "You would know, wouldn't you?"

            "What the fuck do you want from me?" He turned around, letting his eyes flit over her. 

            "A chance." She was taken aback by that answer. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it sure wasn't that. Such an ambiguous answer, too.

            "At what?" she pressed. He seemed to mull that over, taking a breath and then stopping suddenly, his answer poised but unfired. 

            "Making things right," he finally said. 

            "What makes you think things, whatever things you're referring to, went wrong in the first place?"

            "Because you hate me," he said quietly.

            "I didn't think you cared what people felt about you," she stated firmly. His eyebrow rose.

            "Most people I don't."

            "So why me?" His eyebrow rose. "Why do you care whether or not I hate you, huh?"

            "Because you're Jack," he responded. She shook her head. "You're my Jack." Her eyes glinted at the possession he implied.

            "I'm no one's Jack but my own," she gritted. He smiled, only slightly, leaning back against the wall behind him. 

            "So, Jack," he started, pausing to lick his lips, "are you going to let yourself come with me?" He waited, but no answer came. "You got this far." He nodded toward the watchtower. "Plannin' on turning back now?"

            "I didn't mean to come here," she said quickly. He snickered.

            "Then how did you get here? Get lost?"

            "No," she defended, "I was just taking a walk and ended up here." His eyes held hers as he leaned forward, pushing himself off the wall to walk closer to her. 

            "Isn't it funny how things just work out sometimes?" He towered over her, just peering down at those angry green eyes. She let her eyes fall away from his, focusing on the ground to her left.

            "Why didn't you leave at midnight?" she asked, her voice small and timid.

            "I was waiting."

            "For what?"

            "You." She shook her head. He lifted his arm, his fingers grasping the bill of her cap and pulling it away from her head. She didn't move, so he let his hands run through her hair. "I was waiting for you," he whispered.

            "I told you—"

            "And I didn't listen," he interrupted. He let his index finger slide under her chin and pull it toward him, forcing her to look at him. "I don't take orders well, Jack, you know that." She pulled her face from his grip, averting his eyes again. "I'd be here until you came to make sure I was gone." She nodded.

            "I figured."

            "Then why did you show up?" he asked.

            "I don't know," she whispered. He sighed, his breath ruffling the hair falling down her forehead.

            "Let me convince you, then." Her eyes closed. "You wanted me to convince you that I need you, now's your chance to be convinced." She shook her head slightly, fighting with herself over whether to stay or run like hell to get out of this mess. "Please, Jack." Her eyes opened slowly. "It's just one week."

            "I didn't bring anything with me," she stammered. He smiled.

            "I can wait." Her eyes met his and she nodded slowly. "Make it fast," he finished. Her eyebrow rose. 

            "Thought you could wait," she smarted. He grinned.

            "Yeah, but the tower might get pissed. I've been on standby for three hours now. Might cancel me, and then you'd have to give me more than a week." She nodded, and was gone. He stared after, a part of him regretting not going with her, just to make sure she returned. He shook his head. This had to be her choice. He couldn't make himself force this on her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

            "So now what?" Jack made herself concentrate on the satchel she'd just dropped at her feet, just inside the small ship Riddick had led her into. An uneasy feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was nervousness or excitement, and she wasn't sure, either, if she wanted to find out. He ignored her question.         "Watch tower, this is Black Ranger requesting permission for takeoff from Dock A19."

            "Black Ranger, permission granted. You're cleared to take off from runway Z641, Block 2. Safe flying, over," a voice crackled over the com system. Jack noted it was the guy she'd run into before. Probably just started his shift.

            "Strap in," Riddick commanded. _Damn_. The only seat in which she could do so was the one right next to him. "Quickly," he pushed, "We're taking off right now." She nodded and complied, fumbling with the harness. She hadn't seen one this old. He glanced over at her and smirked. "Want some help?" She scowled over at him.

            "I got it."

            "You sure?" Another glare. He sighed and unbuckled himself, leaning next to her. Her eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling, partly to avoid his gaze, and partly to detach herself from the feeling of his hands so close to her crotch. Damn thing had to be a full-body harness. "Jack." She jumped as she heard the click. "Look at me." She sighed and met his eyes. He just looked at her for a while. Just as she was getting ready to ask him what the hell he was staring at, he returned to his seat, strapped in, and took the controls. She watched his hands. Those hands had killed countless people, ended lives slowly and cruelly, and yet they were graceful and, in a way, beautiful. 

            The nervousness grew as they neared the runway, and almost spilled over as the ship picked up speed. She nearly called out for him to stop, let her off, but then felt the landing gear pull away from the ground and knew she had to give him his week. There was no turning back now. 

            "Jesus," she gasped, grasping the sides of her seat with all her strength as the turbulence kicked in. She glanced over at the man looming in the seat next to her. His brows were knitted in concentration, his massive arms tensed, flexing. 

            "This is why I told you to strap in," he commented. "Kallipolis is known for its shitty atmospheric pressure. It's bitch to land on, and a bitch to take off from." She nodded, falling silent again. "Good evening, lady and gentleman," Riddick said, a quirky grin falling over his features. "This is your captain speaking. Please return your trays to their upright and locked position, buckle your seatbelts, and hang on to your asses. Estimated time of arrival is oh-230 hours, three weeks from now. Please keep all extremities within the confines of the spacecraft and enjoy your stay. Thank you for flying Black Ranger." She just stared over at him, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards just a touch.

            "I can _not_ believe you just said that," she said, barely containing the snicker. He grinned over at her.

            "Like that, huh?"

            "Don't flatter yourself." 

            "I was saving it for just this occasion," he continued. She sighed.

            "So, _Captain_," she said, pronouncing the word as one would emphasize the word _manure_. "Can I take this damn harness off and find someplace to take a nap?"

            "Not yet. Let me get to where I can set the autopilot and program our course." Her eyebrow rose, and he glanced over at her quickly before returning his attention to the nearing break between Kallipolis' atmosphere and open space. "Might still be some turbulence. Don't want you getting banged up because of it."

            "I'm not fragile."

            "I know that, Jack," he sighed. "Just trust me." She sighed and flopped back into her seat, staring at the stars as they grew closer. The constant drone of the engines and the hum of the air pressurizer were starting to make her eyelids grow heavy. Just as she was about to drift off, the ship lurched. Her stomach fell through the floor without asking permission. Her hands went to her stomach, and then to her head. "You okay?" She just groaned. "Simulated gravity can be a bitch, huh?" Another groan. He looked over at her. "Jack?" She shook her head. "Uh, you're actually visibly green." A sweat was starting to break out. He sighed and set their course, flipping the switch to turn over to autopilot before reaching out to her. Her skin was cold and clammy. "Damn." He shook his head and stood.

            "Do _not_ pick me up," she warned. 

            "Can you walk?"

            "Just leave me here for a second."

            "Jack—"

            "Jesus Christ, Riddick. Just fucking leave me here for now, okay?" He held up his hands, but they darted back out as her nose started a dive bomb to the floor. He scooped her up into his arms and stood. "Riddick, please," she whispered, now shaking. "Put me down."

            "You need to lie down, Jack," he said quietly.

            "I know that," she returned, "but if you don't put me down right now, I'm gonna puke on you." He stopped walking to look at her. "Seriously." He didn't move. "Now, Riddick. Put me down now." He complied, supporting her as she slid to the floor. Concern was etched across his face. She'd gone from a sickly green color to completely white, her skin shiny and damp. She moaned, pressing her forehead harder into the floor. "Blanket," she mumbled. He disappeared to find one, and when he returned, she was trembling.

            "Jack, can you sit up?" She shook her head slightly. "Jesus," he moaned. "If I'd known you'd be like this I would have—"

            "What?" she interjected. "Bought a new gravity simulator? How old is this thing anyway?"

            "A few years," he smirked.

            "Christ. Gotta be older than me." He shushed her, wrapping the blanket around her. 

            "Sit up," he ordered. She moaned in protest, but pushed herself up slightly. He pulled the blanket completely around her and picked her up again.

            "Riddick—" she warned. And then it happened. He stopped in his tracks, holding her close to him to keep her from wretching herself out of his arms. He'd seen some violent pukers in his time, but she took the cake. She didn't just vomit, she ralphed from her toes. Luckily, he'd picked her up so that her face pointed away from them. 

            "Feel better?" he asked, once she'd quieted. 

            "Not really." He smiled. 

            "Well, at least I can get you into bed," he shrugged, stepping over the puddle she'd just made. 

            "I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head. 

            "Don't be. You'll get used to it." She snorted.

            "Promise me something," she asked.

            "What?"

            "That you'll replace that thing at the next stop." His shoulders shook with his laughter. "Don't laugh. You're making me dizzy again." He smiled sympathetically, pushing the door to her quarters open with a boot. She sighed heavily as he gently lowered her onto the bed, fluffing the pillow around her head. She let a disconcerted "ungh" out as he shifted her to remove her boots. "Don't fuss over me," she pleaded. He dropped her boots on the floor next to her bed and sat next to her, running his fingers over her forehead.

            "You gonna make it?" he asked quietly.

            "I dunno," she moaned. "Have to wait and see." He chuckled.

            "You better," he warned. "I might just feel a little guilty about talking you into this if you croak on me." Her eyes fluttered open. 

            "Really." It was more of a challenge than a question, and she let her eyes close slowly again as he nodded slowly.

            "Get some sleep." She nodded. "You'll feel better." She felt the bed shake as he stood and groaned. He shook his head and closed the door silently behind him. 

***

            Jack groaned as she rolled over to look at the clock, her brows furrowing as she realized it wasn't there. _Fuck_. It all came back to her… the docking bay, Riddick. _Ah, shit. _The puking episode. _Damn, damn, damn._ She shook her head and sat up, looking around the room. It was small, but not tiny. Boring, to be complimentary. Rust was crawling up one corner and onto the ceiling. Metal, built-in furniture. No rugs or anything. _Homey,_ she thought with a mental snicker. She gasped as her bare feet made contact with the cold metal floor. _Definitely have to buy some rugs_, she thought, making a mental note to herself.

            She rubbed her head, inadvertently tousling her hair. Her socks were sticking out of the tops of her boots, and she snatched them up, wrenching them onto her feet and cursing herself for not splurging on new socks – all the ones she owned had holes in them.

            Her shoulder popped as she tried to open the door to her room. It wouldn't budge. She tried again, but it didn't even move enough to rattle. Her toes screamed at her after she kicked it, but still nothing.

            "Fuck," she muttered. "Riddick?" No answer. "Riddick?" Louder this time. Then, at the top of her lungs, "RIDDICK!" Nothing. "Fuck!" Her eyes flitted around the room, searching for something, anything. _Damn._ "Com system. Intercom. Where the fuck is—" she whispered to herself, searching the walls. Next to the door, a small raised box with a button and a light. She pressed it. "Riddick?" _Shit._ _Press and hold?_ "Riddick?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Why did you lock me in my fucking room?" she demanded.

            "I didn't." Her eyebrow rose.

            "Well, I can't get out."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Of course I'm God damn sure, you motherfucker. Let me out!" Punching the wall probably wasn't a good idea. The box fell out and hung by the wires. "Piece of shit ship." Her head snapped to the door as the knob rattled. She heard him swear.

            "Jack?"

            "What?"

            "You try pulling and I'll push. Maybe we can get it unstuck." She had to strain to understand him. The walls were thick enough to muffle everything. 

            "Okay," she yelled. Her hands slipped and she went crashing backwards.

            "You okay?" She rubbed her head and swore as she stood.

            "Yeah. Might want to try something else," she suggested. She heard him try to kick it in, but nothing happened. "Damn."

            "I'll be right back," she heard him say. Silence, and then a few minutes later, he banged on the door. "Jack?"

            "Yeah."

            "Get away from the door." Her eyebrow rose, and she complied, backing up a few steps. "Far away from the door, Jack."

            "Okay," she said, sitting on the bed. "Fuck." He started up a drill. "God damn it." It took a while, but eventually, she saw the drill break through, and the knob fell to the floor. With a shove, he reeled into the room.

            "You okay?" She just scowled up at him, her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against the wall at the head of the bed. "Guess we shouldn't close that, huh?" Her scowl deepened. He scratched his head. "I, uh." He forced a small smile. "I guess this thing needs a little more work than I thought."

            "You just had to buy a project piece of shit, didn't you?" He shrugged. "Are we even going to make it to where ever we're going?" 

            "Hope so." She jumped off the bed and flounced toward him.

            "You _hope_ so?"

            "Hey, chill out."

            "You _HOPE so?_"

            "Jack, calm down." She sighed and leaned her head against the wall.

            "What have I gotten myself into?" He chuckled and reached out to smooth her tousled hair. She jerked away from him. "Don't touch me." He let his arm drop to his side. "Do you at least have a shower with hot water?" He pointed down the hallway. 

            "Second door on the right." She blinked at the word _door_. "I promise, that one doesn't get stuck." She shook her head and shoved past him, slamming the bathroom door behind her. He just stared after her. 

***

            "Feel better?" She jumped slightly at his voice. He didn't look up from his charts, even to sip whatever was in his mug.

            "Much." 

            "Good." She peered over the table.

            "Anything interesting?" He shrugged. 

            "Just charting our next course." _That reminds me…_she thought

            "Got a question for ya," she said.

            "Shoot."

            "Your little spiel." He looked up at her. "When we were taking off." He nodded.

            "What about it?"

            "You said ETA was three weeks from now." His eyebrow rose. "That's longer than a week."

            "Chronological time, yes. Starjumping, it'll be about two days."

            "So you tricked me."

            "Jack—"

            "So, _chronological time,_ how long will it take you to convince me I'm so needed around here?" She paused, but didn't let him answer. "I mean, granted, judging from what I've seen so far, you need some serious work done around here, but I agreed to a week. If we're talking a week starjumping time, what's that gonna translate to in chronological time?" He shrugged. "And this isn't equipped with cryochambers, so it's not like it'll be the experience of a week starjumping time, it'll _feel_ like however long the translation to chronological time will be." She shook her head.

            "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't think about that." 

            "What are you hiding up your sleeve, Riddick?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. He looked down at himself.

            "I don't have any sleeves, Jack."

            "Don't be an ass."

            "I didn't think about it, Jack. I'm sorry." She sighed. He sat there for a moment, considering what he should say. "Do you want me to turn around?" Her eyes met his.

            "What happened to your eyes?"

            "Contacts," he answered. "Do you want me to turn around and take you back?"

            "No."

            "Are you sure?"

            "No." He sighed. 

            "What do you want me to do, Jack?" She shook her head.

            "What's in the mug?"

            "Coffee." She wrinkled her nose. "Got some tea in there somewhere. I can—"

            "I'll make it," she said quickly. He shrugged and went back to his charts. She returned a few minutes later, mug in hand, dipping the tea bag as the steam rose.

            "If I take you back as soon as I finish this run," he said, not looking up from the maps spread out in front of him, "it'll be about seven weeks." He paused and looked up at her. "Chronological time." 

            "We'll see," she said quietly, suddenly staring into her mug.

            "What do you mean, 'we'll see'?" She shook her head. "Does that mean we'll see if you stay once I finish the drop and you make me leave you there, or we'll see if you stay after the drop and we'll make it longer than a starjumping week?" She shrugged.

            "We'll see," she repeated. He grunted. "What's with you, anyway?" she asked. 

            "What do you mean?" He turned his attention back to the maps. 

            "Big Evil traveling with someone. It's not like you."

            "You made an impression."

            "Really." No reply. "It's odd to think of you caring about someone." His pencil stopped moving, poised in space, so to speak. 

            "Well, what's with you?" 

            "Hmm?"

            "Still parading around as a boy?" Her tea bag dropped into her mug with a quiet ploop. "I figured you would have dropped that act once you were old enough to do things on your own."

            "I've been doing things on my own for a while now, Riddick," she answered quietly.

            "Yeah, but you're old enough now that people know not to mess with you."

            "Female is female. Weak, vulnerable target." He looked up at her.

            "You really believe that?" She shrugged. 

            "I don't know. I just never really had the desire to do all the girly shit." He snickered, looking back down at his work.

            "You don't have to do all the 'girly shit' to be feminine, you know."

            "Why are we even having this conversation?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. He shrugged. 

            "Just wondered."

            "You wanna know why?" He looked up at her again. "I got used to pretending to be a guy. It's comfortable. I feel safer this way. I fit in this way." He set his pencil down. "This is who I've become because this is what's kept me alive to see my twenty-second birthday in the near future." Riddick stood and leaned against the table, directly in front of her. She instinctively took a step backward.

            "Who we are and who people see us as are two completely different things, Jack," he said gently. 

            "Saying that about yourself?"

            "About everyone, Jack." Her eyebrow arched. "Everyone has their secrets. You, me, everyone. We all have an image we project to other people, whether it's for pride or protection." He paused pensively. "Don't let your image take over who you are."

            "Why?" her voice cracked slightly.

            "Because then I won't know you." She couldn't think of anything to say, so she just stood there, looking at him. He took a breath, as if he were going to say something, but then let it out in a long, slow sigh. 

            "There's rust growing in my room," she said quietly. 

            "That was random, but yeah, I know." He returned to his seat and picked up his pencil again. "I figured once we dock, we can start taking care of the serious stuff and do the superficial crap later." She nodded. 

            "What about the door?" He paused. 

            "I don't know."

            "Well, I'm gonna go take it off." He looked up at her. She smiled. "I might try to close it again if it's still hanging." He nodded, and watched her turn to leave. Once she was gone, he dropped his pencil onto the table and rubbed his eyes. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

            "Hey Riddick?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Hand me the socket wrench, will ya?" She stuck her hand out from under the engine and wiggled her fingers. He put the handle end in her palm and watched her fingers close around it. 

            "You've had some bad luck with those things, haven't you?" he asked. She snickered.

            "Yeah, they're the scourge of all toolboxes." He grinned. 

            "Fuck, Riddick."

            "What?"

            "You've got a hole in your… um… thing."

            "Well, it's nice to know you've had some anatomy, Jack. I was starting to wonder."

            "Don't be an ass. Whatever this thing is, it has a hole."

            "What's it look like?"

            "A thing."

            "Well, obviously," Riddick chuckled.

            "I don't know. It's a roundish thing inside a square with some little thingies sticking out."

            "What?"

            "Get your ass under here and look at it yourself," she said, frustrated.

            "Oh, that thing," he said, once she pointed it out. "Yeah, that's supposed to be there."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Yeah."

            "Okay, so what am I looking for?"

            "A hole in the tranny."

            "You have a _hole_ in your transmission?" she asked, glancing over at him. He reached over her to grab a screwdriver.

            "Yeah, that's what the diagnostics program said," he answered. 

            "Where the fuck _is _the tranny anyway?" 

            "I don't know," he mused. "It's up there somewhere."

            "Why couldn't you just buy a God damn car?" He snickered. 

            "I don't think a car would survive deep space, doll." 

            "Well, they're a lot easier to work on, _sugarbritches_," she snorted.

            "'Sugarbritches'?" He raised his eyebrow at her.

            "Well, you called me 'doll'. Fair's fair." She shrugged. "There." She pointed. "I can't reach it." She frowned. "I don't see a hole, either." 

            "Really?"

            "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I could be wrong, but on the outside, it looks fine." She looked over at him. "Filthy, but in working condition." She shrugged. "Maybe you need a new diagnostics program?"

            "Yeah, maybe. I'll run out and see what I can find later." 

            "Guess I'll just stay here and make dinner, then, huh?" He glanced over at her.

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "You never let me do the fun stuff… go shopping, grab dinner, see a movie. Nothing."

            "It's a dangerous world out there, Jack."

            "Well, give him a PhD, he's got it figured out," she said sarcastically. "I know that, dumbass. I've survived so far."

            "Jack—"

            "I obviously don't need you to shield me from life, Riddick," she groaned. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

            "Don't you mean, 'I'm a big boy, I can handle myself'?" If looks could kill, he'd have dropped dead. She rolled out from under the engine and snatched up a rag, furiously wiping her hands. "Jack—"

            "I'm gonna go wash up." She turned and left.

            "Jesus."

***

            When he returned from his shopping excursion, she was scrubbing away at the rust in her room. He knew she'd heard him come in, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.

            "Jack—"

            "I know you said we'd save the cosmetic crap for later, but this is really bothering me."

            "Jack—"

            "I mean, I'm the one that has to live in here, so if I can find the time to clean it up, it's no sweat off your sac, right?"

            "Jack—" She turned to look at him, her face devoid of expression.

            "What, you wanna say you're sorry?" His mouth hung open, but no words spewed forth. "Fine, you're forgiven. Dinner's in the oven."

            "You didn't have to make dinner."

            "I know." She shrugged. "Didn't have anything else to do."

            "How can I fix this?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

            "Well, you can start by fixing the intercom wiring and the box, and then fix the damn door so I can have some fucking privacy." He took a breath, but she suddenly remembered something. "Oh! And rugs would be nice. I need some new socks too. All of mine have holes in them."

            "Jack—"

            "I don't know, Riddick." He sighed. An uncomfortable silence settled between them as she toyed with the rusty steel wool in her hands, picking at the strands of metal.

            "Help me out here, Jack. I'm not good with people."

            "I hadn't noticed." He sighed again, rubbing his forehead.

            "You know what I mean." She took a breath and looked up at him.

            "Why do you want me here so badly?"

            "I like the company," he admitted with a shrug of one shoulder.

            "I hear Mena's got a group of scientists cloning people for companions. You can have some of my DNA and then have them try gene surgery to make my clone who you want me to be." Her words struck him so hard he felt he'd been slapped. She let her eyes return to the scrubby pad in her hands. "Dinner's getting cold," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

            "Yeah." Defeat made his voice thick and low.

            "Go ahead," she continued. "I already ate." She heard him sigh, and felt him leave.

***

            Staring at the ceiling hadn't gotten him anywhere close to sleep. He'd counted primes, recited the alphabet backwards, counted squares and then cubes, and nothing was helping. With a heavy sigh, he flopped over onto his side and scrunched his eyes shut. He shuffled out into the hallway and up to the main deck. Pausing to lean against the wall, he just watched her, staring up at the stars. 

            "They're beautiful, you know?" she said quietly. He shuffled forward and took the other seat, watching her watch the glowing specks. "You never pay attention to them when you're planet-side, but out here, it makes you wonder why you never notice them." He nodded.

            "Can't sleep either, huh?" he asked, surprised at how gruffy his voice was. She shook her head, hugging her knees tighter to her chest. 

            "Usually I'd go for a run, but there's not enough room here."

            "I'm planning on converting part of the cargo-hold to a dojo sometime," he offered. _Small talk,_ he thought. _Small talk is good_.

            "Yeah?" 

            "Yeah, eventually." Silence. 

            "Where's the next stop?" Her voice jolted him back into the present.

            "Gryphon," he said quietly. She nodded.

            "Never been there before."

            "They've got some cool stuff." Her eyes lowered to the control panel. "Might be able to get you some new socks." She smiled, her gaze fixated on some invisible object in front of them, in a trance. 

            "And some rugs?" He smirked.

            "Whatever your heart desires." Her smile fell. He repeated himself for further emphasis, watching her face fall even further.

            "Money can't buy what my heart desires," she said quietly. His cheek twitched.

            "What would that be?"

            "Nothing," she said quickly. "Don't worry about it."

            "Jack?" he stared at her, but her trance still consumed her attention.

            "It's not a big deal," she said. "Really." Her eyes met his with a small smile as she stood slowly. "I'm gonna go try again. Good night." He reached out and grasped her wrist. 

            "Come here," he said quietly. She turned around slowly, uncertainty written on her face. "How long has it been since I hugged you?" he asked, looking up at her. 

            "Ages," she whispered. He nodded and tugged on her arm, pulling her closer to him, but she shook her head. "Not today," she said quietly.

            "Why?"

            "I don't know." She pulled her wrist from his hand and encircled it with her own, rubbing slightly as though he'd hurt her. He glanced down and back up at her. She forced a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." He watched her turn and walk down the hall, glancing over her shoulder at him as she rounded the corner and disappeared. He sighed. 

***

            "Jack, let's go," Riddick called, hand on the door latch mechanism. 

            "Sorry, I'm coming." She rounded the corner, barely dodging a steel beam, and caught up to him. "I'm ready." He turned the latch and the hatch lowered. She waited as he locked up and glanced around. 

            "Stay close, okay?" he asked quietly.

            "I'll be fine, Riddick." He noted a slight degree of agitation in her voice, but let it go. 

            "It's not far from here, I promise."

            "I can handle a walk, Riddick." 

            "Do you have your I.D. with you?"

            "Yes, Riddick."

            "Will you stop calling me that in public?"

            "Yes, um…" she trailed off, glancing up at him.

            "Thomas. Mark Thomas."

            "Right." She smirked. "Yes, Thomas."

            "So what all do we need?" he asked, trying to keep a neutral conversation.

            "I need socks, a rug, and some more steel wool. You have the list of the other stuff."

            "I do?" he stopped, and she did the same after a few steps.

            "I gave it to you yesterday," she said. He grinned, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Don't ever do that to me again."

            "Yes, Mike."

            "Fuck you, _Thomas_."

            "You picked it.

            "And you're mimicking me, asshole," she spat.

            "Okay, so socks, rugs, and steel wool. That's it?" She glanced over at him.

            "What else would I need?" He shrugged.

            "I dunno. I thought maybe you'd want to get some new clothes or something."

            "What's wrong with the clothes I have?"

            "You don't have very many," he said.

            "So?"

            "So you can save us some water not having to do laundry so often. It's getting to be a strain on the purifier." She nodded.

            "I guess I could." They rounded a corner and there was a shopping mall. She groaned inwardly. "I hate shopping." He stopped walking again, and she turned. "What?"

            "You wanted to come here."

            "The mall?" Her eyebrows rose as she pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. "No, I said shopping, like a market, not a mall, type shopping." He shrugged.

            "Oh well. This one has anything you might need." Once inside, he handed her a credit chip and instructed to meet him back at the customer service desk in two hours.

            "The one with the blond hologram or the redhead hologram?" she asked, glancing from side to side. His eyebrow rose.

            "Uh… which do you prefer?"

            "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Brunette isn't a choice, so I guess the redhead?"

            "Okay. Two hours." She nodded and looked at her watch. He headed off to Mechanical Supply Outlet, leaving her staring up at the three levels of stores. She swore under her breath. _Start with the closest department store_. 

            Several people asked her if she needed help, and the answer was always "just looking." Straight to the socks. Athletic type. Padded soles. _Hell yes,_ she thought. Ten-pack for seven credits. Under the arm and on to housewares.

            "Can I help you?" She turned, biting back a groan. 

            "Rugs?" The man gave her a quizzical look. "Metal floors are killer on overworked feet." He nodded with an understanding smile. 

            "Second floor." She thanked him and headed toward the stairs. _What, like guys don't buy rugs?_ A plain black one would do just fine. She picked one long enough to reach the door and draped it over her arm. Riddick said he'd get the steel wool in MSO, so she was done with her list. She shrugged and headed to the cashier.

            "Can you tell me how much is left on that thing?" she asked, nodding at the credit chip she'd just handed over. She felt guilty for spending thirty credits on two things, but hey… she had to live with this. The cashier nodded and pointed at the signature pad. Jack's eyes widened. "Is this right?"

            "I believe so, sir," the lady said with a nod. 

            "Wow." She glanced up at the cashier and gave her an embarrassed smile. "I didn't realize I'd saved that much." _Three thousand credits? Damn.__ I guess I'm obligated to buy some more clothes, then. _With a quick thanks, she was out the door. _Where to shop, where to shop. _She found another department store and wandered in, heading straight to the guys' section. Cargos, a couple of tee shirts, another pair of coveralls and god damn, that shirt was cute. _Cute? Shit. That's the girls' section. _She glanced down at herself. It would be odd for her to be shopping in that section. She wandered over to someone who looked like they worked here. "I have an odd question," she said with an apologetic smile. "My sister's about as big as me. What size would she be? I want to get her a birthday present." The woman's eyebrow rose, and she crooked her finger.

            "I don't mean to be rude," she said quietly. "I know how it is traveling by oneself at your age." Jack blushed, no matter how hard she tried not to. "I can get you a dressing room – they're all unisex here – and we can find you something more your speed?" It was definitely a question. "I mean, I understand if you'd rather keep your secret, but if you want a chance to be yourself, you know…" she trailed off. 

            "I guess I could try. No one would see?" The woman shook her head. 

            "Let's find you a dressing room." Jack nodded and followed her, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She stopped just outside the door of the room chosen for her and turned to the saleswoman.

            "Is it that obvious?" The woman smiled politely.

            "I had my daughter do the same thing for years," she admitted. "She was insistent on going to engineering school, and I made the suggestion. It's the only reason I could tell. She never got questioned, and you pull it off much better than she did." Jack nodded, taking it as a compliment, sort of. "I'll be right back, and just hand them to you over the door, is that okay?" Jack nodded again. Forty-five minutes later, she walked out with three bags packed with new clothes. She went into another department store. 

            "Can I help you?" _Grr. That got me into trouble last time_. 

            "Tweezers?" The man's eyebrow rose. She laughed. "I work with my older brother on this piece of crap ship, and I'm constantly getting slivers of metal stuck in me. Pliers don't seem to work as well, even needlenose." He laughed and nodded.

            "I understand completely. My brother's a carpenter, and his wife is always complaining that he ruins hers." She smiled and thanked him. A few other items, and she was out the door. She decided she'd better go ahead and turn back to the information desk – with the redheaded hologram, she reminded herself with a smirk. Riddick was already there.

            "Holy shit," he said, his eyebrows rising as he saw her approaching with so much cargo. "Find anything?" She grinned.

            "I guess." 

            "You ready?"

            "Couldn't be more ready to get the fuck out of a mall," she said. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

            _Good Lord, a hot shower has never felt this good in my life._ Jack leaned her head back, letting the spray of water hit just above her forehead. She stood there for a while, just letting the water run over her. She sighed and thought about the bag sitting next to the shower stall. She rolled back the door and dug through it, staring at the can of shaving cream in her hands, turning it over and over. A glance at the door, and the top came off. It smelled okay, she supposed. Not _too_ girly. _Now, mom complained about pressing too hard, so I guess I shouldn't do that. How the hell do you see your own armpit anyway?_ She rolled her eyes. _This is ridiculous._ _Just hack the shit off and pray you don't catch the skin. And even if you do, it'll heal_. The lack of tickle felt weird. _On to the legs. Jesus Christ, that's a lot of leg. _She glanced at the door again. If Riddick walked in right now… _Back to the task at hand._ She got through that with no major arteries severed. A speckling of red spots where she nicked herself, but nothing to worry about, she supposed. 

            _Okay, shampoo. I've done this before. Jasmine and Aloe, whatever the fuck that is. It's green, that's all that matters. _It had a slightly fruity smell, and not too flowery, either. She could live with it. _Conditioner. Read directions, 'cause this has to be tricky. 'Leave on for one to three minutes._ She glanced at the door again and then stared at the ceiling. _There's a big difference between one minute and three minutes. _She shook her head. _It's a fucking shower, Jack. _That step was survived.

            _Washcloth, soap. This is normal. Liquid, different smell from generic soap, but soap all the same. No big deal. _Lather and rinse, and she was done. With a towel wrapped around her, she reached out and cleared the fog from the mirror. She kept forgetting they had a fan – something her apartment lacked. She glanced at the package containing the tweezers, and then looked back up at her reflection. _What was it mom said? Just clean, don't shape? What the hell's the difference? _She leaned closer to the mirror. _I guess that means just yank the strays and leave the patches? Eh, what the hell?_ She had to bite her lip to keep from yelling. _God damn… that thing should come with a warning label. _She shook her head and continued. _Well, once you start and keep it going for a while, it doesn't seem that bad, I guess. Pain is good, right? _She hadn't decided yet what she wanted to do with her hair, so she just left it. 

            _Now comes the tricky part. Dodging Big Evil. Shit. _She cracked the door open and then swore, letting it close before she whirled around to pick up the evidence of her adventure. It all went in a bag, tucked under her arm, and the door was cracked again. She heard him clanging around in the kitchen.

            "You about done, Jack? I reek."

            "I know," she called, darting across the hall. _Just a few more steps to my room. _"I can smell you from here."

            "Yeah, whatever. Are you done yet?"

            "Yeah, pretty much."

            "What took you so long?" _Does he ever shut up?_

            "Just relaxed for a while."

            "Feel better?"

            "A little," she lied. Hell, she felt like a whole different person, and that might not be such a good thing after all. "You might want to wait a few minutes, let the water heat up again."

            "Shit. I knew I should have gotten in there first." _FUCK! _Something she'd not considered. He'd smell everything she just did to herself. 

            "Sorry." In the doorway and behind the wall. He'd have to go into her room to see her. She knew him better than that. The shower turned on again. _Okay, what to wear? Shock him with the whole shebang, or just see if he notices this? _She decided on the latter, pulling on her new cargos, and a button down work shirt. A bag caught her eye, and she stared at it, suddenly regretting the purchase. _Damn that woman_. She reached in and pulled out the contraption. Hell, she was a girl and the thing was still confusing. At least with the wraps, she knew what end was which. She heard the shower cut off and decided. _Eh. Fuck it. We'll just stick with this._ She lifted her shirt up and bound herself, then snatched the bra off her bed and threw it back in the bag. Those bags – the ones with all the girl stuff – would be shoved to the back of her closet. 

            "Is that jasmine?" She stopped mid stride, mentally beating herself. _This was such a dumb idea_. 

            "Yeah, I kinda liked it. Thought I'd try it." She shrugged, walking past him into the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her and stopped a shudder, pulling open the fridge and rummaging through. "Where'd you hide my green juice this time?"

            "Second shelf in the back." She nodded and reached for it. "I like it, by the way." She stood up, raising her eyebrow. _God damn, it feels naked up there,_ she thought. "The jasmine. It's nice." She couldn't prevent the slight smile from touching her lips.

            "Thanks." She popped the cap off her juice and took a swig.

            "You missed one." 

            "Missed one what?" Another swig.

            "Eyebrow hair," he said, not looking up at her. Green spray, but it kept her from choking. Her face flushed, her cheeks burning. She reached for a towel silently, wiping up the juice she just spit out. "Probably looked blond in the mirror." She shook her head, tossing the towel back into the sink. She'd rinse it later. She heaved a sigh and made her exit. He glanced up at the door she slunk out of and smiled, a slight shake of the head. 

            She flopped onto the bed, not sure if she should be surprised he noticed or embarrassed that he did. _You missed one_. _Shit._ She rolled over onto her side, staring at the wall, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest. _What the fuck was I thinking?_ She sighed. _What a waste of money_. _Good thing I didn't go for the whole deal_. She just lay there, staring at the wall, wishing hair grew back a lot faster than it did. She rubbed her forehead, the recently plucked portion tender. _Hell, it was probably red as a tomato. And you expected him not to notice? Christ. _She shook her head, and then felt him looking at her. 

            He was leaned against the doorframe, a soft expression on his face, just watching her. She sighed, but didn't turn to him, so he walked across the floor and sat on her bed. She felt it give, and closed her eyes.

            "What prompted the change?" he asked quietly.

            "Temporary insanity." His chuckle didn't make her feel any better. "Just because I don't have a door doesn't mean you can just come in here whenever you feel like it." His smile faded.

            "Why temporary insanity?" She shook her head.

            "A dumb idea spawned from a wicked old lady in a department store." 

            "She knew, huh?" No answer was all the answer he needed. He sighed and shifted onto his back, his hands folded behind his head.

            "I'm sorry." Her voice was small and timid. He looked over at the back of her head.

            "Don't be." She snickered. "Why should you be, Jack?"

            "It was a dumb idea."

            "I don't think it was." Silence. 

            "Is there some product out there that makes hair grow back faster?" she asked after a while. He smiled.

            "Spray-on." He was rewarded with a laugh.

            "I don't think that would work," she said. 

            "You're probably right." More silence. Finally, she turned to her other side to look at him, her pillow still clutched closely. 

            "I'm so stupid sometimes," she whispered. He shook his head, reaching out to smooth her hair. His thumb trailed over her swollen, reddened eyebrow, and she winced.

            "That had to hurt." She nodded. "It's red."

            "Yeah, well, when you pull a bunch of hairs out, it's bound to be," she sighed. She shook her head and buried her face in her pillow, letting out a groan. "So dumb," the pillow muffled. She laughed into the pillow and then picked her head up, grinning at Riddick. "I told the guy at the store the tweezers were for picking metal splinters out." Riddick smiled. "He believed me."

            "Did you lie in every store?" Her smile fell.

            "Yeah, but not to every person in the store." He nodded and reached out again, playing with a lock of hair. "That stupid old lady." She sighed and dropped her head to the pillow. 

            "She was just trying to help." She shrugged, playing with the frayed edge of her pillowcase. 

            "Lot more money on that chip than I expected," she admitted, changing the subject.

            "I told you I'd pay you twice what you were making before, plus commissions," Riddick reminded her. 

            "That was just a few days though." He nodded. "What are we shipping, anyway?"

            "Don't ask what you don't want to know," Riddick sighed.

            "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want an answer." His eyes met hers, and he seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell her. "The truth, Riddick." 

            "Depends. Sometimes it's weapons, sometimes stolen shit, just depends on the job," he admitted. She nodded. He took a breath and let it out slowly. "C'mere," he said, scooting closer to her. She tensed up as his arm went around her head, forcing her to lift it and let him settle it under her. His fingers trailed a line up and down her spine, and she had to consciously prevent herself from arching into his side. "There's nothing wrong with you, Jack," he said quietly. 

            "I never said there was." He glanced down at the top of her head, resting on his shoulder. 

            "You seem like you regret this little change."

            "It's not little to me," she countered.

            "What, new shampoo and some missing eyebrow hairs?" She sighed.

            "And shaving cream and a razor." He pulled back to look at her, and then settled his chin on the top of her head.

            "Really." She nodded reluctantly. "Interesting." His fingers continued their trail on her back. "Cut yourself?"

            "Like no other." He chuckled, making her eyes fuzz as her head bounced. "I didn't exactly have a teacher, you know." She felt him nod against her. He took a deep breath, leaning his nose a little closer to her hair. "Smell good?" He smiled.

            "Actually, yeah." He sniffed again, this time more obviously. "I like it."

            "Me too."

            "All of it." She was quiet for a while. "Whatever makes you happy, Jack."

            "Hmm?"

            "I said, 'whatever makes you happy'." She shrugged. "If you want to go back to being the old Jack, it's okay. And if you want to take this new Jack somewhere, that's okay too, wherever you take it." She stilled, and he glanced down at her. This kind of small talk wasn't something he was used to.

            "So now I need your permission?"

            "No, I'm saying you don't," he corrected. She sniffed, and he looked down at her. She was rubbing an eyebrow. He hooked a finger in her thumb and pulled her hand away from her face. "Don't want to touch while it's still pissed off," he explained, still holding her fingers in hers. She let him play with her fingers but didn't play back, so he stopped, still holding her fingers, but letting their hands drop to his stomach. "Five days, starjumping time," he said quietly. "Two left." Her eyes closed. His voice sounded funny with her ear pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breathing rhythmic. All so calming. She managed an "mm-hmm," but nothing more, and he didn't know how to take that. He didn't know how to take anything anymore. "You know what?" 

            "Hmm?"

            "This is just as new to me as it is to you," he admitted slowly. She shrugged, inadvertently pressing closer to him. _God, he's warm_. "More than you'll ever know." _So sleepy._

            "Hmm."_ Softer than I expected too. _She sighed lightly. _Kinda like a pillow._ _The powdered-sugar package pillows. Firm, not poofy._

            "I wouldn't miss this for the world," he whispered. 

            "Mm." She relaxed against him completely, and he reveled in the weight on his side. It was new, but comfortable, which was weird for him. He looked down at her. Her breathing was even and deep, her eyelids had drooped closed, and every now and then, her foot would twitch, popping her ankle. His lips pressed against her forehead. _Guess I won't be getting back to installing that diagnostics program for a while._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

            She woke slowly, groggily. With a grunt, she rolled over onto her side, trying to force her eyelids open. It was as though someone had glued them shut. Finally, she pried them open and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, she was extremely cold. She glanced around the room, finally standing and pulling a sweatshirt over her head. _Must be the lack of hair.__ Probably can't keep myself as warm without it_, she thought with a smirk.

            With a heavy sigh, she yanked open the refrigerator door and rummaged through. For some reason, her green juice didn't seem as appealing right now. _Which reminds me…_She stood and let the door shut on its own. The towel was still sitting in the sink, begging to be rinsed out. She obliged, wringing it out to almost dry and hanging it on the towel bar above the sink. It would go in the laundry later. She turned to continue rummaging through the fridge and jumped back.

            "Shit, Riddick," she gasped. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, just watching her.

            "Scare you?" She sighed and leaned back against the counter. "Sorry."

            "What's on the agenda for tomorrow?" she asked, pulling the fridge door open again and picking through.

            "Not much. We're not landing for a couple more days – chronological time." She sighed, her breath fogging from the cold air. "Figured we could just relax for a while." He shrugged. "Not like we can really do any repairs anyway."

            "Well, we could, in theory." His eyebrow rose. "But you don't want to do the 'superficial crap' until everything else is done."

            "Hey, if you want to start that stuff, you're more than welcome," he said, sounding defensive. "Not my kind of thing, but if you want to, you can." She smiled.

            "What, you can't see yourself painting and decorating?" she asked with a smirk. He stared at the ceiling for a while.

            "Nope," he said. "Can't say I could picture that." She shrugged.

            "I guess you're the type that could live with rusty walls, huh?"

            "Well," he said, "there's a difference between fixing rusty walls and painting walls, you know?" She finally settled on block cheese and tossed the package on the counter. "You're just gonna eat that plain?" he asked.

            "Sure, why not?"

            "Just cut it up and eat it?"

            "How would _you_ eat it?" she asked, pulling a knife from a drawer and slicing it into thick sticks.

            "Melted into chili," he suggested.

            "That's what shredded cheese is for," she said.

            "So what's block cheese for?"

            "Crackers, cheese trays, and sticks," she said, taking a bite. She paused, turning back to him. "We have the dumbest conversations, you know that?" He grinned.

            "It's a unique relationship," he returned. She shrugged.

            "It's a unique something, all right."

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "Huh?"

            "A unique 'something'?" he asked.

            "Um… I don't know how to answer that," she replied. His eyebrow rose. "I don't think I really know what you're asking, actually."

            "What do you consider me, Jack?" he pressed.

            "Another human?"

            "Is that your answer or are you fishing?"

            "What do you want me to say, Riddick?" she asked, tossing the knife into the sink. "Tell me what you want to hear."

            "I want to know what I mean to you." She felt like someone had dropped a house on her chest, unable to find air. She just stared at him. He shook his head and left the room, leaving her staring at the doorway after him.

            The rust was finally starting to go away, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't figure out what Riddick's deal was. _What he means to me? Why the hell would he be asking me that?_ she questioned herself. Every now and then, her thoughts would take over, leaving her sitting in the floor with her hand poised, scrubby pad pressed against the wall, unmoving. Then she'd snap out of it and continue scouring it away as though nothing had happened. _That just came out of nowhere. _Her scowl deepened. _What does he want to hear?_ She stood, staring down at her work.

            "Better, but still not gone," she said to the wall with a sigh.

            "Hey Jack?" She turned an ear toward the voice down the hall.

            "Yeah?" she yelled back.

            "Where'd you put my pliers?" he asked. She thought for a minute.

            "They're not in the tool box?"

            "No."

            "What about the kitchen drawers?"

            "No." She sighed and stood, heading into his bedroom. Her feet stopped moving in the doorway, her eyebrow arching.

            "What the hell are you doing?" she asked. He turned to her with a frustrated expression.

            "Do you know how the fuck these things work?"

            "They screw into the wall, and then the bar snaps into them," she answered, looking over the curtain rods. "You're hanging curtains?"

            "I've been meaning to for a while," he said. "Every now and then we'll pass something too bright for me, and it's just easier to block it out than try to find a way to cover my eyes." She stifled a laugh at his efforts to get the thing to work.

            "Here," she said, standing on his bed next to him and holding her hand out for the screwdriver. "Allow me." He complied with a heavy sigh. "You know, you could just weld these things up," she suggested.

            "I thought about it, but it seemed like too much work." She nodded, smirking.

            "Give me the rod," she commanded, holding her hand out again. She held onto the wall to keep from falling off the bed as he leaned over to grab the curtain rod from the foot of the bed. She didn't see his grin.

            "Does it fit?" he asked. She nodded, heard a click, and turned with a wide grin.

            "See?" she said, pointing. "It wasn't _that_ hard." He sent her a look and reached out, testing its sturdiness. She smoothed out the curtains to completely cover the small window. "These are nice," she commented. Black fabric – some kind of synthetic, she supposed.

            "Think they'll work?" She nodded, stepping backwards on the bed to get a better look. He slid off the bed, and watched her lose her balance. She grabbed for anything, with the exception of the newly hung curtains, but her fingers didn't find anything. With lightning speed, he reached out and grabbed her around the butt, pulling her toward him and away from the floor.

            She felt herself stop falling, but the room was still spinning. Her hands pressed against his chest, her nose inches away from his. He just looked down at her, his arm still around her.

            "You okay?" he asked quietly. His breath ruffled the hair falling in her eyes, and he reached up to brush it away from her face. She just stared right back up at him.

            "Why do you still wear your contacts?" she asked quietly. His eyes fell away from hers, and he released her to step away from her and turn away. She stared at his broad shoulders, still waiting for an answer. "Riddick?" He shook his head, starting for the door. She stopped him, darting in front of him and placing a hand on his chest, pushing him into the wall. "Riddick." His eyes met hers. "Tell me." He sighed.

            "I don't know."

            "You're a horrible liar."

            "And you're pushing your luck," he retorted, pushing past her.

            "Jesus, Riddick," she groaned. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He paused in the doorway, his back still facing her.

            "What's wrong with me?" he asked, turning slowly. "You're the one that doesn't know how you feel about me." She blinked and looked away.

            "That's a legitimate 'I don't know,' Riddick," she said quietly.

            "Is it?" Her eyes found his for a brief moment and then focused on the floor. "Or do you just not want to tell me because you don't want to piss me off?" She didn't move. "Or maybe," he continued, "you don't want to tell me because you're enjoying this little excursion, aside from my company, and the money you're making, and you think if you tell me and I don't like it, I'll dump you at the next stop." Her eyes stared angrily back at him.

            "I'm not telling you because I don't have a fucking clue, Riddick," she snapped. She shoved past him, and stopped a few steps down the hallway to turn to him and continue. "And just for the record," she licked her lips, the fire in her eyes growing. "You dumping me at the next stop wouldn't be a new experience." He blinked, as though that response wasn't expected. "Maybe you should be answering that question yourself. Why the fuck did you have to barge back into my life, anyway?" She shook her head and continued down the hall. _And God damn it, I don't have a fucking door._ She passed her room and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door and twisting the lock. He knocked a few seconds later.

            "Jack?" She ignored him and turned the shower on, peeling down and stepping under the water. "Jack, open the door." More knocking. She sunk to her knees, letting the water beat on her back, resting her forehead on the bottom of the tub. "Jesus Christ, Jack, open the fucking door!" He knocked harder, rattling the hinges. She shook her head, holding her stomach, willing the tears away. They didn't listen, instead, breaking free and mixing with the water running down the drain. She could hold back a sob, and finally gave in completely, shaking under the stream of the hot water, letting it all out. By the time she had the strength back to stand, the water was running ice cold, and her knees ached from her weight in the same position for so long. Weakly, she reached out and shut the water off, crawling out of the tub and wrapping a towel around herself. It was quiet in the hallway.

            The steam had cleared from the mirror, but she didn't look at her reflection. She just leaned against the wall and stared at the door, wondering if he was still out in the hallway, just waiting for her to come out. Slowly, she dried off and dressed. Her hand shook as it closed around the doorknob, and it took all her strength to turn it and pull the door open. He wasn't in the hallway. She sighed. She couldn't go to her room and be alone, since she still didn't have a door to close, and there wasn't really anywhere else private except for his room, so she went there, closing the door quietly. She curled up on his bed and closed her eyes. Her chest ached from crying so hard, and she was sure her sinuses would be screaming in a short while for snorting so much water, but she was too tired to care. She was just starting to drift off when she heard a soft knocking on the door. She turned toward the wall and closed her eyes again when it creaked open.

            "Jack?" She tried to keep her breathing even. "I know you're awake." Still no reply. She heard him sigh and felt the bed give as he sat down, still far away enough that she couldn't sense him close to her. "I'm sorry, Jack." He waited, but didn't get anything from her. He rubbed his forehead and then his eyes. "Do you know how hard it is for me to say that?"

            "Do you know how little I care?" she responded quietly.

            "Well, at least you're talking to me," he noted. Nothing more. "I, uh…" He glanced at her. "I can put off the next drop and take you home," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She felt her lip tremble and her eyes start burning again. _He is not going to make me cry again_. She didn't respond, so he continued. "It'll be three days." He didn't specify that it was chronological time. "I'll go ahead and program the course," he finished, standing. She let him leave and close the door before she turned onto her back and stared at the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

            She was sitting in the copilot's chair, staring out the main deck's windshield, just watching Kallipolis slowly get nearer, growing larger the further the ship traveled. She'd spent the past two days packing her meager belongings into the one satchel she brought with her. She marveled at how stuff multiplies when it's time to pack up again. When she first arrived, she'd had plenty of space in her little bag, and she'd not bought that much along the way, but she'd still had to stuff it all in there so tightly she couldn't fit in a toothpick if she'd tried. She'd left all of the female clothing in their bags in the bottom of her closet. It would take him a while to find them. It had been a waste of money, but oh well.

            As Kallipolis drew closer, the more depressed she got. _Why?_ she asked herself. _Why should I care that this didn't work out? _She sighed. _Ever the optimist._She still wished there was a way she could know he was safe. But that would require keeping in contact. Something which, she felt, was impossible. And she figured if something happened to him, it would be all over the news. Not like she could do anything about it anyway.

            "Just a few more hours." She started, but didn't have to turn. There was only one other person on this ship. He watched her, but she didn't respond. "I wish this could have worked out." Still nothing. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Jack." Her eyes closed, but she didn't move to say anything. He cleared his throat behind her and sat next to her. She turned away, staring at the wall opposite from him. "Is there anything I can do to fix this?" Nothing. He nodded. "Okay." She heard him stand, but not leave. She turned her attention back to the window, and he was still standing next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It had grown out a little, just enough to tuck back, but it wouldn't stay there. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she shivered. "I never meant to hurt you," he continued quietly. "I've never felt the need to have someone around me, you know? Never felt like I could trust anyone enough to keep them close to me." She just continued staring at the large planet drawing nearer. "I don't know anything about relationships, Jack. I don't know what to do about this, if there is anything." He ran a hand over his head and sighed. "I just know I'm gonna miss you even more now." She shook her head just barely enough to see. "I really wanted this to work, Jack." She looked up at him for a second, then returned to staring out the window.

            "What was this supposed to work as, anyway?" she asked quietly. He thought for a moment.

            "I don't know." She sighed. "I don't think really had any expectations. I just wanted you around."

            "Why?"

            "I don't know."

            "So why is it okay for you to not know what you want from me but not okay for me to not know how I feel about you?" she asked. He sighed.

            "It's not." She shook her head. "I'm really sorry, Jack."

            "Sorry doesn't cut it." Her voice was flat and cold, the impact of her words confusing him.

            "What will?"

            "Nothing," she responded. "It's too late now." He nodded.

            "That's what I thought you'd say," he admitted. He took a breath as if he were going to say something, and then changed his mind, letting the air out slowly in a silent sigh. "What could I have done differently?"

            "Nothing," she said. "Things happen like they're supposed to. I guess this was just validation that we don't need each other any more." He sighed and gave up, turning to go back to his room to lock down for landing. He stopped in the hallway and turned to look back at her, watching her watch the approaching planet.

            "I'll always need you, Jack," he said quietly. Her head turned slightly. "Even if you don't need me."

            _He just had to make me sit next to him for the landing, didn't he?_ She sat strapped into the copilot's chair, gripping the armrests as the turbulence kicked in. Boy, she wasn't going to miss this. She felt the landing gear touch the runway and sighed inwardly._ Almost there._ Her harness stayed buckled until they parked in their docking assignment, when she unbuckled and stood, walking toward the hatch. He followed her down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the cargo hold, watching her stoop to collect her satchel. She turned back to him as the hatch started to lower. He forced a small smile and reached out, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't return the hug.

            "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. She pulled away and shifted the shoulder strap of her satchel.

            "Goodbye, Riddick," she said, turning to walk out of the ship. He watched her through the heat waves emanating from the runway's pavement. She didn't turn to look back at him. All his strength left him, and he slid to the floor, watching her leave him. The gentle sway of her hips, the wind tossing her hair around, the sporadic shifting weight on her shoulder. He shook his head, letting it drop into his hands. _I sure fucked up royally this time._

            She really needed to pee before the landing, and stepping out onto the hot pavement didn't help. Her body screamed for a bathroom. She ducked into a building that looked public. It turned out to be a little grocery mart where pilots could grab something to eat while paying for their fuel. She asked the attendant where the restroom was, and he pointed her in their direction. She thanked him, and headed into the men's room, still playing her role. Once inside, she dropped her satchel on the floor and let go, holding back a sigh of relief.

            "He land yet?" She glanced down at the floor and saw two pairs of boots in the stalls next to her.

            "Yeah, I think he just got in."

            "So what's the plan? Storm and grab?" Her stomach fell. _Shit, shit, shit!_

            "Yeah, I suppose so. Company wants him back as soon as possible. They're pretty pissed he killed Johns. Good merc, man. Shame." Her eyes narrowed.

            "We can wait until he gasses up and pays. At least they'll get his money before they get him."

            "Good call," the other man said. She flushed and walked to the door.

            "Sounds like you guys are planning on picking up one of the pilots," she said in her best male voice. "Think you'll need any help?"

            "Appreciate it, man, but no," one of them said. "We got a whole team together on this one."

            "Must be a big catch," she pressed.

            "Yeah," the other said. "That Riddick guy." She shook her head, biting back a colorful word. "Evidently an informant saw him leave with a young boy a month or so ago, someone with ties here, and thought just maybe he'd come back. Turns out he did, and it's a damn good thing we started planning in advance."

            "Why's that?" she asked.

            "He's a tough one to catch," the first guy replied. "Made a name for himself killing mercs, cops, and military, mostly. Hard to find, and hard to hold."

            "Well, good luck," she said, walking out the door. She tried as hard as she could not to run back to the ship, knowing it would draw attention. The closer she got, the more nervous she became. The Black Ranger was within sight, and thank God, the hatch was still down. She walked up to it and peered inside the cargo hold. He wasn't there. _Shit. _She entered slowly, glancing around. "Riddick?" No answer. _Fuck._ She walked up to the main deck and looked around. His bedroom door was closed, so she knocked.

            "What?" she heard him call.

            "Riddick, you gotta leave now," she said, the panic spilling out of her voice. The door was yanked open, and she was staring face to face with a very angry Riddick.

            "Why's that?"

            "They know you're here." His eyebrow rose. "I heard a couple of guys talking in the bathroom about grabbing you after you pay for fuel." He just stared down at her. "Riddick, c'mon. You probably don't have much time. If you don't get fuel, they might think something's up and come over here anyway." He pinched the bridge of his nose. She didn't know why she was so insistent on getting him out of here. As long as he didn't gas up, they wouldn't go after him, would they? "Riddick, please." He looked down at her, searching her eyes. He nodded finally, and pushed past her and down the hall. She followed him to the cockpit, and her mouth dropped in horror. "Shit."

            "Go close the hatch," he ordered. She ran down to the cargo hold, pausing before turning the latch, staring at the five uniformed, armed men running toward the ship. Finally, her fingers worked, and the latch turned, the hatch groaning and creaking as it closed. Two shots rang out, and she ducked behind a wall, dodging the ricochet. Once the hatch was closed, she ran up the stairs and back to the main deck. "Strap in."

            "Riddick, I—"

            "Now, Jack." She stood there. He looked up at her and sighed. "I'll find another way for you to come back here, I promise."

            "I don't want to leave," she said quietly.

            "Well, there's not much I can do about that right now," he barked. "I said I'd find another way back for you, now strap in and shut up." She looked like she'd been smacked, but she complied. He grabbed the com unit and clicked the button. "Black Ranger requesting permission for takeoff."

            "Permission denied, Black Ranger. Open your hatch immediately," the tower responded.

            "Fuck you," he whispered, starting his engine and pulling away. They faintly heard the uniformed men yelling at him to cut the engine and turn himself in, but he ignored them, steering the ship toward the closest runway.

            "Black Ranger, you are denied takeoff. Cut your engines now." He shook his head and turned the com off, letting the handset fall to the floor. Jack reached out to pick it up and replace it, but he grabbed her arm.

            "Don't fucking touch it," he growled.

            "I was just—" His grip on her arm tightened to the point of being painful. She nodded and dropped it with a thud to the floor. Her arm was released, and her other hand went to it, rubbing her wrist tenderly.

            "Does this port have fighter jets on standby?" he asked roughly.

            "I don't know. I don't think so," she answered, "But I don't know."

            "Fuck." His hands gripped the controls so tightly his knuckles were turning white as he steered them into their takeoff. They got out of the atmosphere safely, but Riddick wasn't taking any chances. He kept the ship at full throttle, sitting at the controls for an hour after takeoff. She didn't take the chance on him going apeshit over her leaving her seat, so she just remained.

            "Do we have enough fuel?" He glanced down at the gauge but didn't say anything. "If we stop at the closest settlement, they'll expect that."

            "I know that, Jack." She looked away. He sighed. "I have enough to get to Mena. Barely, but enough." She nodded. "You know any programming?" he asked quietly.

            "A little."

            "Can you reprogram the ship's identity and ID number?" Her eyebrow rose, but she nodded.

            "I think so," she said.

            "Do it, if you can." She turned in her chair and started typing away at the program panel.

            "What do you want the ship's new name to be?"

            "I don't know," he sighed, sounding frustrated. "Come up with something." She turned back to her programming and continued typing. When she was finished, she stood and headed to her room, searching around for a screwdriver. Riddick appeared a while later, leaning against the doorframe.

            "What are you doing?" She looked up at him.

            "Rewiring the door." His eyebrow rose. "If I can get the box to work, the door might open and close without locking automatically." He nodded, staying to watch. "Do you have any wire strippers?"

            "Not that I know of, unless you bought some."

            "Shit." She shook her head. He watched her bite the wires, stripping them, albeit unevenly, and twist them back together. After a few minutes of tinkering, she tucked the wires back into the box, reattached the box to the wall, and looked at the door. "Can you hold that up for me so I can get it back on?" He nodded, watching her put the hinges back on the door, holding it to the wall so she could screw the hinges into the wall. She stood and shrugged. "Let's see if it worked." She let the door close, Riddick out in the hall in case it didn't work, and tugged on the handle. Panic rose in her chest when it didn't budge, but she tried it again, turning the knob the other direction. She heard a beep, a click, and it opened. She grinned up at Riddick. "I shoulda been an electrician." He shook his head, smiling slightly. Her smile fell slowly, and she fidgeted with her fingers. "Riddick, I—" He shook his head, holding up a hand.

            "I know some people on Mena that can get you back home," he said quietly. "You'll be safe with them."

            "I—" He shook his head again, interrupting.

            "I promised you I'd find you a way back to Kallipolis, and this is all I can come up with, so that's how it's gonna be."

            "Will you let me finish?" He sighed and let his eyes meet hers, nodding slightly. "When I said I didn't want to leave, I meant I didn't want to leave here." His brow furrowed. "This ship." His eyes fell away from hers, looking at something down the hall instead. "You." His fingers twitched around the corner of the wall. "I don't know why, but when I heard those guys talking about catching you, something—" She broke off, searching for words. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." Her hand ran through her hair, tousling it. "Just hearing them talk about it – I guess it made me realize where I belonged." He looked back at her.

            "I don't want you to stay because you think you have to," he said quietly.

            "I don't," she insisted. "I want to stay because I want to be with you." His cheek twitched. "And God knows you need help getting this ship fixed up enough to be safe," she said, a smirk twisting her lips. His returned smile didn't light his face for more than a second.

            "I still don't know what to do about this," he admitted. Her eyebrow rose.

            "About what?"

            "This." He gestured between them. "Us. You being here." She shook her head. "I don't know how to live with other people, Jack. I'm not good at being sociable." She smirked.

            "I know that," she said quietly. Suddenly she remembered something. "Shit," she muttered, collapsing onto the bed.

            "What?"

            "I left my bag in the bathroom." He looked down the hall. "Of the gas market." He sighed, rolling his eyes.

            "We can stop and get you some more clothes on Mena," he said.

            "I have some, but yeah, let's do that." His eyebrow arched.

            "You have some?" She blushed.

            "Damn that woman." He grinned.

            "The department store lady?" he asked. She nodded, rubbing her eyes.

            "I guess I can suffer until we get to Mena," she mumbled.

            "Hope so," he said. "You're not doing laundry every day to avoid it, I can tell you that much." She groaned. "Aw, it can't be that bad." She nodded. "I guess we'll see tomorrow then." She glared up at him as he turned down the hall. "By the way," he said, poking his head back into her room, "you left all your bathroom shit in there too." She sighed. He'd found that stash much sooner than she expected.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

            She sat in her room, still wrapped in a towel, hair dripping on her shoulders. The bags in the floor of her closet seemed to laugh at her, daring her to open them and put on the garments contained in them. She sighed and closed her eyes. _I can't fucking believe this._ She opened one eye and then the other. She shook her head and emptied the contents of the bags on her bed. Three pairs of jeans, four tops, and, thank God, underwear. _Nothing special, right?_ She sighed again, rubbing her forehead. Snatching up the closest pair of jeans and the plainest top, she closed her door and stuffed the rest of the clothes in her bag. She pulled on her underwear first, then dropped her towel to figure out how the bra was supposed to work. It wasn't as difficult as it looked, but she missed the feel of her wraps. She stepped into the jeans and pulled the top over her head, running her fingers through her wet hair. _Eh, at least I'm dressed, I guess_, she thought. She opened the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Riddick was in the dojo, pounding away on a punching bag. She made a mental note of that. She'd not noticed that room before, but she was definitely going to remember it.

            Her clothes felt too tight as she rummaged through the fridge, settling on left over chili. She plopped some into a bowl and heated it up, leaning against the counter to eat it. She just stared at the floor, eating and thinking, but not really about anything in particular. She was kind of glad she'd forgotten to pack those bags now. Granted, these clothes weren't exactly comfortable, but she was covered, and did have socks. And she would have missed that shampoo. The smell had grown on her. She was so lost in mentally inspecting this new appearance she didn't hear Riddick walking down the hall toward the kitchen or see him standing in the doorway.

            "You look nice," he said quietly, stifling a chuckle as she jumped. "Careful," he warned. "Might spill your chili on yourself." She rolled her eyes. "It'd be a shame to ruin that outfit." Her eyebrow rose.

            "It's too tight." He shook his head, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge.

            "It fits you," he insisted. "It only feels tight because you're used to wearing baggy guy clothes." She shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

            "How far is Mena?"

            "Couple days, why?"

            "That's not enough time to get used to it," she mused. He snickered.

            "Never know," he pressed. "You just might learn to like it." Her eyebrow rose. "Really, Jack, you could make quite an impression on someone looking like that." She blushed slightly.

            "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, hiding behind a bite of chili.

            "You look like a girl," he said. "A gorgeous one at that." Her cheeks flushed a deeper red.

            "Shut up." He smirked.

            "You asked," he said, shrugging. "You know, if you wear something like that to go shopping for clothes more like what you wore before, you could raise some eyebrows and draw unwanted attention to us." She sighed.

            "I'll wash my other stuff before we go." He chuckled.

            "You're so predictable." Her eyes narrowed. He set his bottle of water on the counter and turned to dig through the cabinets for a snack. She finished her chili and walked behind him, grabbing his ass before setting her bowl in the sink.

            "Predictable, am I?" He glanced over his shoulder at her.

            "Don't start something you can't finish," he challenged. Her eyebrow rose as she washed out her bowl and put it in the dishwasher.

            "Is that a threat or a promise?" Before she knew it, he had her backed up against the counter, right in the corner. There was no way she could get around him. She just stared up at him, praying the defiant look she'd mastered stayed in place.

            "Well," he said, staring down at her, his face inches from hers. "That depends on your next move." She'd expected to be uneasy at being so close to him against her will, but for some reason she wasn't.

            "I guess I might find out eventually, then, huh?" He looked surprised for a second, but that vanished quickly. A lazy grin spread across his face, and he leaned closer to her, their noses just fractions of an inch apart.

            "Maybe sooner than you think." He let her go, returning to rummaging through the cabinets. She stayed there, wondering if he'd turned the thermostat up. He looked at her over his shoulder, grinning evilly, and left the kitchen. She laughed quietly. _That was weird._

            "Hey," she called after him. He appeared in the doorway. "Do you have a computer on this bitch?" He shook his head, and she swore.

            "Why?"

            "I haven't checked my email in ages." He sighed.

            "They can track you that way, you know?" She nodded. "Might want to learn to live without it. Are you expecting something?"

            "Not really. Imam and I still write to each other now and then. If he sent me something, he might get worried if I don't write back."

            "There's a library by the port we're going to on Mena. You can check it there, let him know you're okay but won't have access for a while. Just make it short." He turned to go, and then turned back to her. "And encrypt it if you can." She nodded.

            "What do you want for dinner?"

            "I'm making dinner tonight." Her eyebrow rose. "You've made it enough for a while," he continued. "It's my turn." She shrugged.

            "Whatever tickles your pickle," she said, turning back to wipe down the sink.

            "My pickle?" he asked, re-entering the kitchen.

            "A cliché alternative for a cliché."

            "Kind of suggestive, don't you think?" She felt him standing behind her, the hairs on her neck standing on end. She felt the vibrations in his chest, even though he was on the opposite side of the kitchen. The whole room seemed to vibrate whenever he spoke.

            "Only if you take it that way," she said.

            "What other way would I take it?"

            "Pervert." He chuckled.

            "You would be too if you had the view I had." She turned around, and he was standing behind her, leaning against the opposite counter.

            "Now that," she said, "was suggestive." He smiled. "By the way, how do you get into the dojo?"

            "There's a door on the opposite wall of the bathroom door, why?"

            "Just wondered," she said with a shrug of one shoulder. He memorized that gesture. It made her seem more feminine, more flirty. "I might check that out later. After we go to Mena."

            "Why after?" he asked.

            "All I have to wear is girly jeans and shirts," she answered, glancing down at her apparel. "Not really conducive to working out, don't you think?"

            "I guess." She nodded, as though she'd won. "Could always just wear nothing, you know?" She wrinkled her nose, but still blushed. She was doing a lot of that lately.

            "What's with all the comments?" she asked.

            "What comments?" She rolled her eyes.

            "Ever since I tried out this female crap you've been—" she stopped, eyeing him. His eyebrow rose.

            "I've been…" He gestured for her to finish her sentence.

            "Weird." He laughed.

            "I've been told I'm weird all my life, Jack."

            "You know what I mean," she said with a sigh. He just shrugged. "You're aggravating."

            "Yeah, I've heard that before, too."

            "So what haven't you heard before, Mr. Tough Guy?" she asked. He just looked at her for a moment, suddenly serious.

            "I'm sure you can come up with an answer to that on your own." She just stared after him as he left the room.

            The bed in her room never felt so comfortable. She sighed, hunkering deeper under the covers, reveling in the weight of them. Staring up at the ceiling, she let the thoughts pass through her head, the contented smile on her face slowly fading as she recounted the day's events. _What would have happened if I hadn't gone to the bathroom? Or if I'd just gone into the girls' room? _She shook her head and rolled over onto her side. _I would have gone home and left him, just like he left me._ The bed suddenly didn't seem so comfortable after all. She shifted the pillow, trying to get comfortable. Her back ached. _I wonder if he would have come after me. Watched me until I decided to go back. Probably would have eventually anyway. He probably knows that. Maybe he'd just snatch me up and make me want to come back. _She shook her head._ He wouldn't do that. He'd just watch over me, make sure I'm safe, and if anything happened, he'd step in._ She smiled to herself. _My knight in tarnished armor._ Her smile faded, her eyes growing heavy. _What does he mean to me anyway? I used to think he'd come back and we'd live happily ever after, like Romeo and Juliet. Well, not exactly. They died. More like Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming._ She yawned. _Yeah, Sleeping Beauty.__ She had the right idea._ She let herself drift off, her breathing getting deeper and more rhythmic.

            Riddick lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wondering why she really came back. If she was upset with him enough to let him take her back to Kallipolis, she would have been upset enough to let him get captured. _No, she wouldn't do that. I've saved her ass enough, she knows she owes it to me. _He frowned. _Maybe she thinks this is paying me back for saving her all those times. _A heavy sigh. _Too bad I can't let myself save her from me. She has to know she can do better. _He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. _These damn contacts.__ Don't do anything for the glare, either. Benefit everyone but me._ He rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall. It was still next to impossible for him to fall asleep easily. All those years in Slam made him uneasy about konking out. No, he'd mastered the art of catnapping.

            He gave up and stood, padding across the room and into the hallway, heading to the cockpit. It was usually relaxing to stare at the stars going by, so he sat in the pilot's chair and did just that. He started to doze off, and after fighting against fighting it, he finally gave in to sleep, still reclining in the pilot's chair.

            He woke a few hours later, just keeping his eyes closed. He was one of those kinds of people who, if he allowed himself, would hit the snooze for an hour just to be able to drift in and out. When he finally got around to opening his eyes, Jack was sitting in the copilot's seat, just looking over at him. She was curled up on her side, facing him, just resting her head on the top of the chair.

            "Can't sleep?" His voice was gruffy. She shook her head. He nodded, blinking slowly.

            "You always sleep out here?" she asked quietly. She didn't sound at all groggy. He shrugged.

            "It's easier to fall asleep out here for some reason." She nodded, falling silent again. He watched her avoid his eyes for a while. "Everything okay?" He glanced up at him and then back out the window.

            "Just couldn't sleep?" His eyebrow rose.

            "Nightmares?" She nodded slightly. "You always did have bad nightmares, didn't you?" She nodded again. "Wanna tell me about it?"

            "No." He sighed.

            "Might help." She shook her head. "Okay." It was so quiet with the ship on night mode, all but the backup engine shut off, floating slowly through space. They both stared out the window and watched the stars. He was starting to drift off again, his eyelids getting heavy.

            "We were back on T2," she said quietly. He looked over at her, but she kept staring out the window. "Running back to the skiff." She shuddered. "You yelled for us to keep moving, that we knew the way, and we left you there. We kept waiting, but you never showed up, so we went looking for you." He saw goose bumps on her skin and reached out, taking her hand into his. Her skin was ice cold. "You came around a corner and stopped, and it looked like you were relieved we found you." She stopped, shaking her head. He let his thumb run back and forth on the back of her hand. Her fingers twitched in his, tightening and releasing only once.

            "Go on," he encouraged.

            "They got you," she continued. "And we didn't move." She shook her head as though she didn't believe it, and blinked a tear free. "We didn't even try to help."

            "It was just a dream, Jack," he said gently.

            "We laughed," she whispered. His thumb stilled, and he just watched her. Her brows were furled, quivering slightly. "You looked so hurt, not because those things were eating you. You didn't look hurt until we laughed at you." She sniffed, and his hand tightened around hers.

            "It was just a dream," he repeated. She looked over at him, the tears shimmering in her eyes. "It never happened." She nodded, staring down at their hands. "Have you had that one before?" She nodded. He paused, searching for a way to phrase his next question without pissing her off. "Is that why you came back to me today?" She didn't respond, and he mentally kicked himself. She just stared at their hands, intertwined, as though it contained the answer to the meaning of life. "C'mere," he said, tugging on her hand. She sat up and let him pull her to her feet. He pulled her onto his lap, her legs hanging off the side of the chair, her head on his chest just under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand running through her hair. "Just a dream, Jack." She shook her head.

            "We almost left you there," she whispered.

            "It was just a dream."

            "No, when we were there. We almost left you."

            "But you didn't." She lifted her head, finding herself closer to his face than she expected. His hand still ran through her hair, his thumb lingering on her forehead and then her cheek, until, finally, resting on her neck, just under her jaw. Her eyes shifted from his eyes to his lips and back up, and he did the same. She blinked sleepily, and he smiled. "Tired yet?" She smiled a little and nodded. "Let's get you back to bed." She stood up, and he followed her down the hall to her room. He watched her crawl under the covers and look up at him as he reached for the light.

            "Stay with me." He barely heard her, and paused.

            "In here?" She nodded. He looked back into the hallway, absent mindedly rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly unsure. He looked back at her, an expectant look in her eyes. "You sure?" She nodded again. He flipped the light off, instantly relaxing at the relief. His sensitivity to light seemed to be getting more intense. She watched him walk over to the side of the bed and sit, pausing before lying down.

            "You want the covers?" She asked quietly, pulling them over him before he could answer. She felt him tense as she curled up against his side, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, his fingers trailing up and down her upper arm slowly. She let her arm flop over his side and tucked her fingers under his shoulder blade, gently pressing into the muscle.

            "My arm's gonna go to sleep," he predicted. She smiled.

            "It won't matter if the rest of you does." He looked down at her, watching her fall asleep. She grumbled when he turned onto his side, her hand dragging across his back and around his side to his stomach as she snuggled into his chest. Her knee pressed between his, finally letting her leg snake between them, the arch of her foot cradling his calf. His eyes fluttered closed as he took in a sharp breath through his nose. _That was a dumb idea_. It was suddenly uncomfortably warm under those covers. He stared at her, sleeping pressed up against him, letting his hand trail down to the small of her back, running along her spine, feeling her arch into him. _Mental note_, he thought. _Future reference, just in case._ He blinked at the appearance of that thought. Until tonight, he hadn't really thought of Jack that way. All the sexual banter between them was just in good fun, no real meaning behind it. He leaned forward, smelling her hair. The corners of his lips curled upwards. _Jasmine._ He just watched her for a while, amazed at how relaxed she looked. _Innocent._ That was something he'd not considered. Just how innocent was she? Considering how long she'd been keeping up the disguise, she'd be pretty damn innocent. He sighed, ruffling her hair. He wished she'd grow it out. She shifted against him, and he was barely able to stifle the groan she roused. _Definitely a dumb idea._ He closed his eyes, willing his body to abandon its reaction. _Gotta__ sleep, man.__ If I can fall asleep, this won't be a big deal. _He knew he was lying to himself, trying to convince himself. With as lightly as he slept, he'd know every time she moved, even if it was just a slight twitch. This was going to make for a long night. His lips pressed to her forehead, and he could have sworn she pressed back. A smile touched her lips, and she shifted again. His eyes slammed shut and he inhaled sharply, then feeling her nose touch and then nuzzle the crook of his neck. _Yep, long night all right._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

            He didn't know where his fingers were. His brain sent the message to wiggle, but the movement didn't get sent back. Then it all came back to him. _Ah yes,_ he thought. _The nightmare._He sighed lightly. _I bet if I open my eyes, I'll be in her room._ He did so, and sure enough, there he was. He glanced over her head. _There they are. _They wiggled, but he didn't feel them. _Shit. _He knew if he moved he'd wake her, and he wasn't sure the pins and needles awaiting him when he did move would be welcome, so he just lay there, watching her sleep peacefully.

            With the arm he could still feel, he reached out and ran a hand through her hair. It was getting to the point where she needed to either let it grow out or cut it. He smiled to himself, imagining what she would look like with long hair.

            She inhaled sharply, tensing, signaling her impending awakening. He let his eyes close and his breathing slow. Her eyelashes fluttered against his neck and he felt her stretch against him.

            "I know you're awake, Riddick." His lips curved into a lazy smile. The look on her face when his eyes opened went in the file in his memory. That eyebrow crooked at an arch, the green eyes locked on his, and the slight pout of those lips. Made him just want to reach out and take the lower one between his fingers and pinch lightly. It was an odd urge, but he let it slide. She started to press herself into sitting, but he grabbed her arm, holding her on her side next to him. "You're not gonna let me sit up?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

            "My arm's asleep."

            "Okay?"

            "If you sit up, it'll wake up and be fuzzy for a while." She chuckled.

            "So you'd rather it be asleep, then, huh?"

            "For now," he grumbled, resting his chin on the top of her head.

            "So what's the agenda for today, Captain Thomas?" she asked, stifling a snicker. He so did not look like a Mark Thomas.

            "Get ready to dock on Mena. Lock down anything loose, clean up a bit." She nodded against him. An unsettled silence fell over them. Well, unsettled to her. He was perfectly comfortable pondering whether or not to fall asleep.

            "Riddick?" He mumbled something indecipherable back at her. "What happened last night?"

            "We had wild monkey sex, Jack." She rolled her eyes.

            "Yeah, right. You honestly think I'd still be dressed if that had happened?" He glanced down at her.

            "You're not," he stated simply, grinning when she looked down at herself to check. She glared back up at him.

            "Asshole." He shrugged.

            "You had a nightmare and asked me to stay in here with you." She nodded.

            "That's what I thought," she said quietly.

            "Better now?" he asked. She shrugged.

            "I guess we'll see."

            She sighed and groaned as she tried to stand up, her knees aching from sitting in the floor for so long. Tight jeans were not good for repair work. A few wires had come loose in their hurried takeoff, and hadn't been found until after she tried to adjust their identification settings.

            "Get everything fixed?" She smacked her head on the underside of the control panel. "Sorry." She chuckled and stood, rubbing her head.

            "I told you I should have been an electrician," she replied.

            "So it's fixed then." She nodded. "Good." She watched him sit in the pilot's chair and glance up at her. "What'd you name 'er anyway?" She sighed and plopped into the copilot's chair.

            "Solar Eclipse," she said quietly. His eyes snapped over to hers, but she was staring out the window. "It was all I could think of at the time besides Big Evil, and I figured that would've been a dead giveaway." He smiled.

            "You're probably right." He watched her foot start to jiggle harder the longer the silence remained.

            "Don't stop talking," she said quietly.

            "You've got a think about silence, don't you?" he asked gently. She nodded slightly.

            "When there's no noise, you don't know if anything's out there," she explained, staring at her fingers in her lap with a pensive expression on her face.

            "There's always noise, Jack," he countered. "Might be barely audible, but it's always there." She glanced over at him, then back at her fingers. He shifted to look at her without craning his neck. "Close your eyes, Jack." Her eyes met his, questioning. He just nodded. She complied. "Tell me what you hear."

            "Not this again," she groaned. He chuckled.

            "It's good practice." She sighed. "Tell me what you hear," he repeated. Her face reflected her concentration. "Don't think about it, just listen," he instructed.

            "The front engines," she answered.

            "What else?"

            "The back engines."

            "Observant." She smiled, her eyes still shut. "What else?"

            "My breathing."

            "What else?"

            "The air conditioner." He smiled. It wasn't running, but the motor hummed just a bit anyway. She was getting closer.

            "What else?" he asked, watching her face intently. She turned her head slightly, her brows knitting deeper the harder she listened.

            "Your breathing."

            "What else?"

            "The freezer coolant shifting." _Much better, Jack._

            "What else?" She took a breath and stopped, as though she were unsure. "What is it?" Her eyes opened slowly, as though she were awestruck. He shook his head slightly, his eyes locked on hers, willing her to tell him.

            "Your heartbeat," she whispered. His eyebrow rose.

            "Are you sure it wasn't yours?" She shook her head.

            "No, I could feel mine, and it was different." The corners of his lips curved upwards barely noticeably, and he nodded in satisfaction.

            "Always something there." One of her brows twitched downward slightly, her eyes suddenly sad. She shook her head.

            "Not always." He strained to make out what she said. He sighed.

            "You might not be able to hear it, but it'll be there," he said quietly, glancing over at her. She smirked, as though sharing an inside joke, then looked up at him.

            "You know what that sounds like?" she asked. His eyebrow rose. "Sounds like you just promised to hang around me even if you—" she trailed off, her eyes averting his.

            "Then it sounded like it was meant to," he said quietly, standing slowly. Her eyes darted up to his, and she watched him walk down the hall. She shook her head.

            "Anything else to lock down?" Riddick looked up from the charts spread out before him and glanced around. 

            "I don't think so," he replied.

            "So what now?" she asked, looking around the cabin. They weren't due to dock until early tomorrow morning, and if everything was locked down and cleaned up, there wouldn't be much to do except stare into space. Literally.

            "Feel like a workout?"

            "I don't have anything to wear," she said, her eyebrow quirked. He grinned, but didn't say what he was thinking.

            "Well, I don't know then," he finally said. She sighed and flopped down at the kitchen table. "Got a question for ya," he said, reaching into a cabinet and withdrawing two glasses.

            "Shoot," Jack replied, watching him pour two glasses of her green juice. "So that's why my juice hasn't been lasting as long." He shrugged, handing her one.

            "I'll buy you some more." He paused to take a sip and sat down in the chair across from you.

            "You were asking?"

            "Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "How, um, tightly did you adhere to your cover?" Her eyebrow rose. He chuckled at himself. "You were a convincing guy, Jack." Her eyes focused on her juice as she slowly swirled it around. "Did you convince yourself?"

            "You mean am I a lesbian?" He didn't reply, so she took that as an accurate rewording. "No, I'm not." He just looked at her, as though he expected more explanation. She took a breath and sighed heavily. "I just never really had the time or the luxury of getting involved with someone." He nodded, falling silent. She watched him watch her. "Why?" she finally asked.

            "Just wondering." She stared at him, mimicking his expectant expression. "What about now?"

            "What about now?" she repeated, blinking a few times.

            "You know," he said slowly, "I mean if you meet someone at a stop, and, uh…" He trailed off, a grin growing on his face, "sparks fly." She snickered, shaking her head. His seriousness bled back through. "Are you planning on going back?" She stared into her glass for a while.

            "I don't know." She sighed. "Does it matter?" _What a question,_ he thought, inwardly kicking himself.

            "Not really, I guess," he said quickly, shrugging. "I mean, I wouldn't mind either way." Her eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "What I really mean is that you should do what you want to, Jack. If it's more comfortable for you to keep up the disguise, I think you should." He glanced at her. "If you want to."

            "Long explanation," she mused. He smirked.

            "I'm not good with words."

            "Not as bad as you think," she said.

            "I've never had to be."

            "I guess," she said, looking thoughtful. "What about you?"

            "What about me?"

            "Sparks ever fly for you?" He shrugged. "If they do?"

            "I usually get over it," he said simply. "Less of a trail." She swallowed hard, scrounging up all her courage.

            "What if it was someone willing to go with you?" His eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly.

            "I'd be worried." She nodded. He smiled.

            "You know," he said slowly, "you're getting to the point where you need to cut it or let it go." She shook her head, not knowing what he was talking about. He just waited for an answer.

            "I'm not good at confrontations," she said slowly. His face remained unreadable. "I can't just come out and say what I want, Riddick." Her cheeks flushed. "You're just going to have to figure it out."

            "I was talking about your hair, Jack." The red in her cheeks deepened.

            "I'm not sure yet," she said quickly, running her fingers through the short locks.

            "But since you brought it up," he started. She shook her head. "What is there for me to figure out?" She sighed.

            "Nothing," she returned, standing quickly.

            "Jack," he started. She shook her head, rinsing her glass.

            "I have a tendency to embarrass myself," she said quietly. He reached out and shut the water off. She set the glass in the sink. "Can I get a pet?" His eyebrow rose. "Not like a dog or fish or anything that could be messy."

            "What did you have in mind?"

            "A snake?" His eyebrow twitched. "Or two?"

            "I don't know if they could handle the starjumps, Jack. They stress out easily." She shrunk. He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. "And you didn't embarrass yourself." He felt the heat return to her cheeks. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

            "Not everything," she said quietly.

            "Sure you can." She shook her head, looking up at him.

            "Every girl has her secrets."

            "I guess," he said. "Nothing major?" She shrugged. "Don't get all enigmatic on me Jack."

            "Big words, Riddick. You been reading that dictionary to fall asleep again?" He chuckled and sent her a winning smile.

            "You caught me, red handed," he said sarcastically. Her skin tingled at his closeness, making her nervous. She wasn't sure why she was so guarded about her feelings for him, perhaps because she wasn't finished sorting them out. She felt his breath on her cheek and turned to him, forcing herself to keep from pulling away. "You make the first move whenever you're ready." His voice was quiet and seductive, sending shivers up her arms and leaving goose bumps behind. Her eyes closed slowly, and when she pried them open again, he was gone from the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

            She lay still, staring at the ceiling, wishing sleep would come. They'd decided to stay up until after they'd landed. She wasn't sure what to make of that conversation. He'd invaded her space, tricked her into admitting more than she was ready to, but his last sentence just blew her away. _'You make the first move whenever you're ready.' How the hell does he know? _She sighed and rolled onto her side, now staring down at the door. She watched it open slowly, satisfied the creak was still gone.

            "Can't sleep either?" she asked. He shook his head.

            "I didn't think you'd be awake," he said quietly. She shrugged, pushing herself up to sit on the side of the bed.

            "Me neither," she replied. "Wish I wasn't." He smiled, sitting next to her. "What's the plan for while we're on Mena?" she asked.

            "Got some business. You've got some shopping. Mostly it'll be down time." She nodded. "Not much major repair I know of."

            "What about the superficial crap?"

            "What's left?" She snickered.

            "Depends on what you'll let me get away with." His eyebrow rose. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to paint or anything."

            "What do you want to do then?"

            "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Rugs maybe."

            "That's all?"

            "I guess there's not all that much left," she said quietly. "What are we going to do with our spare time when all the repairs are done?"

            "Work out," he said. "Sleep. Eat." She smiled. "Have deep, philosophical conversations." She shook her head and gave his arm a light smack. "What?" He pretended to be hurt. "You always complain about having nothing but cheesy, superficial conversations."

            "I know," she replied. "But you don't have to make fun of me."

            "I'm not making fun. I'm totally serious," he insisted.

            "Oh, okay." He noted her sarcasm with a smile. She closed her eyes, and he just watched for a while until a smile slowly spread across her face.

"Something funny?" he asked, watching her eyelids rise slowly.

            "Just listening," she said quietly. "I'm learning to deal with silence that way." He nodded slowly, his eyebrow still quirked.

            "Still there?" She nodded. "Told you." She sighed and stood.

"I'm gonna get put together," she said, stretching lazily. "Want me to pick anything up while I'm out?" He shrugged. "Do we need anything?"

            "I don't think so."

            "I'll check before I go," she said, heading toward the bathroom.

            "Wire strippers and another set of pliers."

            "Okay," she called from down the hall. He heard her turn on the water before rising and heading to the cockpit to do another syscheck, just to make sure he hadn't missed any repairs before they had to leave.

            His eyebrows rose involuntarily as she walked past the kitchen to go down to the cargo hold. She saw him staring and stopped, changing her course to grab something to munch on before leaving.

            "What's the deal?" she asked, digging through the cabinets.

            "I figured you'd revert back to your old style," he said, hoping he sounded as tactful as he tried to. She shrugged.

            "I thought I'd try the tomboy chick look." He nodded, glancing over her again. Baggy cargos and a tight black wifebeater. He He ," she said quietlShe pulled it off, and he wasn't sure that was such a good thing.

            "It suits you," was all he said. She turned to look at him, a bemused expression plastered across her features.

            "'It suits me'?" She repeated. He nodded. "Is that a good thing?" she continued, turning back to her search for food.

            "Yeah," he said slowly, as though unsure. "Be careful though." She let the cabinet door close loudly and continued on to the next cabinet.

            "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, pushing through boxes of snacky things that didn't appeal. "Don't we have any fucking animal crackers on this thing?"

            "Animal crackers?"

            "I'll stop and get some." She turned to him, leaning against the counter. "You were saying?" He thought quickly, trying to remember what she'd asked. "'Be careful'?" she reminded him.

            "Yeah, be careful." Her eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "Look, Jack. I know you think you can handle yourself, and you can – to a point." She took a breath to argue, but he continued. "But you haven't been in public as a female, and looking the way you do, you might run into some trouble you don't expect." Her mouth remained open, as though she still intended to say something, so he waited. She shook her head and forced it to close. He chuckled. "You're hot, Jack. What can I say?" She flushed crimson and turned to go. "Jack." She paused. "Want some company?"

            "I can manage."

            "Well, hold on a second." She leaned against the hallway wall, and he jogged down to his room, returning with a set of wireless coms, handing her one. "Any problems, let me know." She took it from him with a reluctant sigh. "I'm serious, Jack. Mena's relatively safe, and I stress 'relatively'." She nodded and slipped the com into her back pocket. "And make it as quick as you possibly can. Get some fuel on your way back, too." She glanced up at him.

            "I thought you were fueling up while I'm gone."

            "Yeah, well," he started with a sigh. "I should probably lay low for a while. You're listed as the captain, just in case."

            "What's my name today?"

            "Cody Wells." Her eyebrow rose. "Cody could be a girl's name, right?" She shrugged.

            "I guess so. How much fuel?"

            "150 deciliters. They'll take care of it. You just have to tell them and pay." She nodded. "Have fun," he finished. She smiled up at him and turned. He watched her leave with a muted sigh.

            "Everything go okay?" He'd heard her settling bags on the kitchen floor.

            "Yeah," she returned, glancing up to see him enter the room.

            "What'd you get?"

            "Help me unload it and find out," she suggested. He snickered and helped her empty the bags.

            "Did they have a bigger bag of animal crackers?" he asked, holding up a five pound bag. "I don't know if this will last you until the next stop." She glared over her shoulder at him.

            "Good munchie food," she said, turning back to organizing the fridge. He grinned a twisted smile and found a place for the massive bag. She sighed and fell into a chair.

            "Hard work, huh?" She nodded.

            "Shopping sucks."

            "Well," he drawled, "you seemed to do okay." She shrugged, watching him sit across from her.

            "Station guy said he'd page us on the com when he was done refueling."

            "How'd that go?" Riddick asked.

            "Fine," she said with a shrug. "They asked my name, I told them, they asked how much, I told them, the told me how much, I paid them." He nodded.

            "I'm sorry I had to make you do that." She waved him off.

            "It was on the way back. Not a big deal."

            "Everything else go okay?" She paused, searching his face for a moment.

            "Fine," she replied slowly. He nodded, as though relieved. "Why?"

            "I was just worried." Her eyebrow rose.

            "Is this the 'be careful' thing again?" She saw the corners of his lips turn upwards just a hair and only for a fraction of a second, but he didn't reply. "What, you want the details?" His eyes snapped over to hers, and she thought she noted a flash of panic.

            "What details?" She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

            "Well, since you're just so _worried_ about me, a couple of guys looked and smiled, one whistled, and one asked my name, but no one crossed the border to threatening," she said, humoring him.

            "Don't mock me, Jack," he warned.

            "You brought it up."

            "Tell me something," he said quietly. She nodded. "Would you have used that wireless to tell me if something didn't seem right?" Her eyes met and held his.

            "If I thought I couldn't handle it, yes." His eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

            "Did you know someone was following you today?" he asked.

            "Yes." He opened his eyes and stared at her. "You were." Her eyes were defiant, any questions of his about how sure she was of that completely obliterated. "Why?"

            "Wanted to keep an eye on you."

            "I had a wireless com on me, Riddick."

            "You wouldn't have used it."

            "I would have, if I thought I needed to," she insisted. He just stared at her, making her unsure of whether or not he believed her. Her eyes narrowed. "If I could knock you over in your chair at that bar, what the fuck makes you think I couldn't knock someone else's over?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the table, her stance meant to be intimidating. She knew she couldn't intimidate him, but she also knew he knew the implication of her movement.

            "Don't overestimate yourself, Jack."

            "I don't," she fired back. "And I don't underestimate myself either." He nodded, suddenly exhausted. He leaned back in his chair, and she relaxed a little. She sighed, and his eyes met hers again. "Are you ever going to let me do things myself?" she asked. His brow furled. She shook her head, working her fingers against a crack in the table. "You need some wood putty."

            "I think I have some in the tool box in the cargo hold." She nodded and stood. "Jack."

            "I'll be right back," she said, not slowing. She returned a few moments later, wood putty and putty knife in hand. He watched her patch the table. "Well?"

            "Well what?" he asked, watching her scrape the excess off the table and back into the jar.

            "When am I going to be able to do things without you watching over my shoulder?" she repeated, turning to rinse the goo off the knife.

            "Not in the sink, Jack."

            "It's water soluble, Riddick," she retorted. She shut the water off and turned to him, leaning against the counter, her eyebrows poised to let him know she was still waiting.

            "I'm sorry."

            "You've been apologizing a lot lately," she noted.

            "I've had a lot to apologize for," he returned.

            "Well," she said with a shrug, "start acting." He sighed. "I'm a big girl, Riddick."

            "No, Jack, you're an extremely gorgeous young woman that makes an easy target to guys with one track minds." Her eyebrow rose.

            "So maybe someone should be watching over your shoulder, then," she said, eyebrow still arched. He blinked a few times.

            "Maybe someone should." His eyes met hers. "What do you think, Jack?" he asked, standing slowly. Her breath caught in her throat as he walked toward her. "Do you think someone should be looking over my shoulder?" He stopped in front of her, one foot on either side of hers, looming over her. Goose bumps rose on her skin as he ran his hands up her arms and back down again, finally coming to rest on the counter behind her. He leaned closer to her. "Make sure I behave myself?" She looked up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness. He bowed his head, catching the flesh just below her earlobe between his teeth. Her eyes slammed shut as she drew in a sharp breath, wishing the butterflies flitting around in her stomach would drown in the acid rising up in her throat. She swallowed – hard. He nipped at the soft skin on her shoulder, watching her fingers tighten around the countertop with a satisfied smile.

            "Don't manipulate me, Riddick." She finally found her voice. He paused, looking back up at her. Her eyes were scared and yet firm. He shook his head slowly, suddenly intent on her lips.

            "I'm not," he said quietly, leaning forward to taste. His lips barely brushed hers when she twisted out of his hold, sliding into her chair again, blowing on the setting wood putty. He sighed and leaned against the counter where she just was. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. She shook her head, still staring at the freshly patched crack. He sighed and sat in the chair next to her, watching her tense. "Jack, I didn't mean—"

            "It's not you."

            "Please don't give me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech," he said quickly. She smiled slightly.

            "That's not what I meant," she explained, lifting her eyes to meet his. She shook her head. "It's those damn contacts." His eyes fell from hers. "Every time I look at you, it's not you."

            "Would it help if I stopped wearing them?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.

            "You mean would it help with these sudden, unexpected romantic advances? I don't know." He opened his mouth, but she cut in. "Would it help make me feel more comfortable here?" She shrugged. "Maybe."

            "So you're not comfortable here because I wear contacts to keep people from automatically assuming I'm a convict?"

            "You are a convict, Riddick." He sighed. "Miners have the same ratio of shine jobs to normal eyes as convicts do. Stop being paranoid."

            "Paranoia keeps you safe."

            "From what?" she asked.

            "Suspicion," he said.

            "Then be paranoid," she returned with a shrug. "Your choice. But just remember that I don't feel like it's you when I can't see that glow," she finished, standing to take the putty and knife back to the cargo hold. He let his head fall to the table with a thud.

            "Christ," he groaned at the table. He let his eyes close and shook his head.

            "You told me to make the first move when I'm ready." His head snapped up, the heat spreading through his shoulders as his nerve endings protested the sudden movement. She stood in the doorway, uncertainty playing in her eyes. "That was your move, not mine." He watched her turn and leave, staring after her.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

            "Hey Jack?" He cringed as he heard the loud thump, the only evidence of the contact made between her head and the undercarriage of the ship. She swore quietly.

            "Yeah?"

            "You okay?" he asked, tried his hardest not to chuckle. She rolled out from under the ship, a scowl on her face as she rubbed her forehead.

            "Might've knocked some sense into me." She smirked up at him as he chuckled lightly. "I think so." She pulled her hand away, then stared up at him. His smile slowly morphed into concern, and her eyebrow rose. She winced as the pain shot through her head, lowering her wound to her hand again.

            "Jack, you're bleeding," he said quickly, stooping to inspect the wound.

            "I'm fine."

            "No, really, Jack," he insisted, pulling her to her feet. "You gave yourself a nasty gash." She followed him into their ship with a huff.

            "Actually," she said, "_you _gave me a nasty gash, if I even have one, by scaring the shit outta me."

            "Swearing is unbecoming of a lady," Riddick teased.

            "I'm not a fuckin' lady, then, am I?" she retorted, rewarded with a snort from the looming figure ahead of her. He sat her down on the bathroom counter and wet a rag, dabbing at the cut on her forehead. She hissed and pulled back, but he caught her around the neck, holding her still. "Shit hurts," she complained through gritted teeth.

            "It's just warm water."

            "Well, it hurts," she said, stifling another gasp.

            "And it's about to get worse. I don't know what you hit under there, but it was dirty, whatever it was."

            "No," Jack said quickly, trying to slide off the counter. "Anything but—"  Riddick turned, displaying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his best Vanna White impression. Jack let the acting skills surface, putting on her best terrified face. Riddick just stared back at her, his expression completely blank. Her terrified face fell and she cleared her throat.

            "Ass," Riddick muttered under his breath. She pouted, but he pretended not to notice.

            "How bad is it, really?" she asked, trying not to jerk away as the peroxide assaulted her already pissed off nerve endings. "Shit."

            "Not too bad. It's a healthy cut, but nothing I can't fix."

            "Well, that's comforting," she said, pressing his fingers harder against the wound, hoping the pressure from his hand and the peroxide soaked rag would ease the sting.

            "Easy," Riddick warned, removing her hand from his. She watched him peel open a butterfly bandage.

            "That bad, huh?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow again, forgetting how sore it was already.

            "Better safe than sorry," he said with a shrug. She sighed, sitting still again as he applied the bandage and stepped back to inspect his work. "You should be okay."

            "Well, that's a relief," her eyes widening dramatically. "You know," she continued, "I was really starting to fear for my life." He scowled down at her, but she went on. "Are you sure I don't have a concussion? Maybe you should take me to the hospital to see if I have any brain damage."

            "Enough, Jack," he interjected.

            "Or maybe I have blood poisoning. Or tetanus."

            "Jack."

            " Or maybe a little space alien thingie was hiding out in the engine and planted its little offspring in my head when it smelled the blood."

            "Enough!" he roared, nostrils flaring. She jumped, staring at his hands clenching and relaxing.

            "Sorry," she mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers. He sighed, leaning against the wall.

            "What got you so melodramatic today?" he asked gently. She shrugged.

            "I was having a good day," she responded, her voice sounding smaller than it should. The sound made Riddick cringe. He didn't know what made his temper flare so suddenly.

            "I'm sorry, Jack." She shook her head, not looking up from the floor. He reached out and tousled her hair, drawing his hand back quickly when she started. With a heavy sigh, he knelt down in front of her. "Look at me." She shook her head. "Jack?" He reached forward and lifted her chin with a crooked finger. He could see the tears threatening to break as her eyes met his. His brows furrowed. I

            "Long day," she said with a shrug, pulling out of his grasp.

            "What happened?"

            "Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm just tired." His eyebrow rose.

            "Tired doesn't seem to apply here," he said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. It just kind of gruffed instead. She shook her head.

            "I just have a lot on my mind," she dismissed.

            "Want to talk about it?"

            "No." He nodded and stood.

            "You know you can talk to me, right?" She nodded, but it didn't convince him. "About anything."

            "Not anything, Riddick," she whispered. "A lot of things, but not anything." He swallowed hard and nodded, deciding it was best to just leave her alone for a while.

            "If you change your mind…" She nodded, still staring down at her fingers in her lap. He rubbed his forehead and turned, leaving her to sit in the bathroom.

            _What the hell is wrong with me_? He was sitting in the kitchen, staring down at a glass of water he'd poured and hadn't touched. _It should have been funny. I should have been laughing instead of yelling at her._ He sighed, reaching out to swirl the clear liquid into a tiny little whirlpool. _Something's up with her. _He set the glass down, watching the swirling come to a stop. _Maybe I pushed it too far this morning._

            "I'll be back." He looked up just in time to see her pass the kitchen entrance. The chair groaned, scraping across the floor as he stood to chase her down.

            "Where are you going?"

            "Out," she said quickly, pausing before starting down the steps to the cargo hold. "I'll be back later."

            "Jack."

            "Chill out," she insisted, a touch of anger in her voice. He stopped, watching her walk down the ramp, the confusion plastered blatantly on his features. _Something's not right._

            Jack sat in a dark bar, clutching the tumbler filled with warm, dark liquid tightly in a hand propped up on the counter. She sighed, rubbing her forehead tenderly, then glancing at her fingers before replacing that hand in her lap. She'd heard somewhere drinking alcohol could cause a fresh wound to start bleeding again. _Better safe than sorry_, she thought with a smug smirk. She sighed.

            "Heavy face for a pretty girl like you." She turned to give the man standing behind her a glare before turning back to her drink.   
            "Shitty pickup line, even for a dumb fuck like you," she retorted, taking a swig, barely keeping the grimace off her face.

            "Who says it was a pickup line?" She stared at him, her eyes angry, as he sat down next to her and ordered a drink. "What happened?" he asked, pointing to the bandage on her forehead.

            "I got into a fight and beat the shit out of someone that tried to pick me up," she lied. The remark was so ridiculous she had to fight to keep the sadistic smile from surfacing.

            "Poor guy. Can't blame a man for having good taste," he finished, smiling at her. She didn't return it.

            "Your taste is all in your mouth." That nasty smile of his didn't even start to fade. "Why don't you go get yourself a hooker?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom. "Probably be easier than messing with a bitch like myself."

            "Aw, c'mon," the guy drawled. "Don't be so hard on yourself." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she caught his wrist, twisting his arm enough to make him howl.

            "What part of 'leave me the fuck alone' didn't you catch?" she demanded, her voice low and threatening. The bartender watched carefully, finger poised over the emergency button.

            "Christ, lady," the guy gasped. "I was only trying to be nice." His voice caught as she twisted his arm further.

            "I don't need nice right now, asshole." She leaned forward, pushing his arm into his shoulder, making the position even more painful – for him. "Leave me the fuck alone." Her head spun as she fell backward, the man who grabbed her spinning her on the way down. The wind was knocked from her as she landed on her stomach, the security guard pinning her arms behind her back. "Alright, alright," she groaned, struggling against his grip. "Let me up and I'll leave." No answer. She tried to turn her head to look at the person or people holding her down, but her head was caught in a big hand and pressed to the floor. She swore under her breath.

            She sat in the small cell, staring at the ceiling, arms crossed behind her head. Evidently bar owners on Mena didn't let people stand up for themselves without calling the cops. She smirked, thinking about the asshole that was in the cell next to her. _He started it,_ she thought to herself. _What a predicament I've gotten myself into_. Feet shuffling down the hall made her turn.

            "I don't think anyone's going to press charges," she heard the guard say. Whoever he was talking to didn't respond. "We usually don't get calls like that," he continued. "Most people know not to mess around in bars nowadays. We take that seriously." _Shit. They're talking about me._ She sighed and leaned back on the bumpy cot. "Miss Wells?" She turned, her stomach suddenly falling through the floor. Riddick appeared over the man's shoulder. _Definitely in trouble now._ The guard opened the door, and she sat up slowly. "You ride's here," the guard said, nodding toward Riddick.

            "Now." Riddick's voice was low, making her gulp. She was sure the guard knew she was scared of this man. _Fucker doesn't care_. She stood, walking through the barred doors to follow Riddick down the hall.

            "You'll have to fill out the papers at the front desk," the guard called. Riddick waved his acknowledgement, but his steps didn't slow. Jack was having trouble keeping up with him. _This is not good. _

            He didn't say a thing as he signed the papers, and the walk back to the ship was equally as silent. With a heavy hand on the back of her neck, he steered her into the kitchen and sat her down in a chair, placing a glass of water in front of her, his arm hovering over her shoulder as he leaned forward. She didn't touch the glass, instead watching him sit down across from her, folding his hands on the table in front of him. He just stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

            "Feel better now?" Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't answer. She wasn't sure if he was asking if she felt better now that she was home or if she felt better after her little tirade at the bar. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" Her eyes fell, focusing on the water in front of her. She felt his eyes on her, but couldn't think of anything to say. His voice was too calm to be trusted. "You know what I had to risk to go down there and bail you out, don't you?" Mostly demand, partly question. She didn't move. "Jack." She jumped slightly at the sound of her name. It seemed foreign on his lips. Her hand shook as she reached for the water, her mouth suddenly desert-dry. He caught her wrist a few inches away, letting her arm hover over the table. Her eyes met his angrily. His were surprisingly soft. "Are you okay?" She jerked her hand away from his and stood, storming out of the room. She heard him follow, but slammed her bedroom door in his face before he could invade her room. "Jack, open the fucking door." She flopped down onto her bed with a heavy sigh and curled up into a ball, the room suddenly spinning. Not a good sign. "Jack, please," she heard him plead from the other side of the steel wall. She let her eyes close and hoped she could imagine the situation away. "Don't make me get the drill out again," he warned. She stifled a giggle. "I don't want to have to make you fix this goddamn door again." She jumped to a sitting position as she heard his shoulder contact the door. _He's gonna get in her one way or another,_ she thought. He was just about to slam up against the door again when he heard the lock turn, and he barely caught his balance before the door opened and she walked away. "Will you just talk to me?"

            "Leave me alone."

            "Jack."

            "If I have to leave this ship again to get away from you, I will, and you know it." She didn't know why she said that, but it was out before she could stop it, and she instantly regretted it. She might as well have slapped him. She'd never seen him look hurt before, and if that's what this expression was, she'd rather jump off a cliff than to have to see it again.

            "Do what you want to, Jack," he growled. "You're going to anyway." She figured he'd turn and storm out, but he stayed, just staring down at her.

            "Don't scold me, Riddick."

            "Someone sure has to," he retorted. "You keep pulling shit like this and—"

            "And what? You'll kick me out?" she yelled back at him. "I know you better than that. Jesus Christ, Riddick. He started it."

            "And you finished it," he said quietly. "You pushed it too far this time."

            "This time?" She stood quickly, the room spinning harder. "When have I ever gotten in trouble before?"

            "Do you know what I risked to bail you out?" he yelled back at her. "This place is crawling with mercs and you made me go out there and risk getting caught just to get you out of jail. You don't belong there, Jack."

            "It's always about you," she spat. "The risks you take for me, the things you do for me, the places you go for me. What about me?" He just stared back at her. "Fuck you." She flounced back onto the bed, dropping her head into her hands. "I've taken plenty of risks for you and never complained about it."

            "Jack—"

            "Get out." She lifted her head to glare at him.

            "Jack, I'm—"

            "OUT!" He stared at her for a moment, the sentence he was about to say forgotten, before he turned to go, closing the door silently behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

            Jack shuffled into the kitchen, squinting at the eerie glow the refrigerator light cast across the room. She let it shut on its own, taking a swig out of the milk jug.

            "So that's who's been drinking out of the carton and leaving it open." She jumped, dropping the jug to the floor, a wave of milk rippling out across the room. Without looking in his direction, she stooped to pick up the jug and reached for the nearest towel. "Better not cry," he said quietly. Her eyebrow rose, but she concentrated on mopping up the mess. "Spilled milk, you know?"

            "Ha fuckin' ha," she said flatly. "Do you ever sleep?"

            "Not hard, no," he said with a shrug invisible in the dark. "I catnap." She nodded, rinsing the towel in the sink. "You really need to relax, Jack."

            "You really need to quit scaring me like that." The room fell silent. She dropped the soaking towel in the sink, not really knowing or caring if it was completely rinsed out, and looked over her shoulder. Two silver orbs stared back at her, disappearing every now and then as he blinked. Goose bumps rose on her skin. She cleared her throat and wiped off the milk carton, setting it back in the fridge. "What happened to the contacts?" she asked nonchalantly, closing the door quietly.

            "I ripped one." She nodded, sitting across from him with the animal crackers she'd just removed from a cabinet. He watched, amused as she bit off the head of what slightly resembled a horse, followed by its legs, and then split the cracker horizontally between her teeth. It was methodical, and highly entertaining to him. He smirked in the darkness.

            "Gonna get new ones?" He didn't answer, so she just figured he shrugged. "Probably find an eye doctor around here somewhere that can hook you up," she added, fishing through the bag for another horse-like cracker.

            "Why do they call those animal crackers when they're more like cookies?" he asked, reaching out to dig through the bag. She stopped, cocking her head to stare at the headless horse cracker in her hand.

            "I don't know," she mused. "Never thought about it." The headless horse met the same fate as the one before it. "Guess they're kinda in between crackers and cookies. Not really sweet like real cookies, and not salty like crackers." He chuckled quietly, and the room fell silent again, save the intermittent crunching as animal crackers were mutilated between Jack's teeth. She stopped, pushing the bag away with a finger, and leaned back in her chair.

            "Feel better?" he asked, watching her content half-smile, caused by the cookies, fell from her lips. _Last time I asked that question I didn't exactly get a good response_, he thought quickly, shifting in his chair. "Amazing how something like a little horse-lookin' thing can make everything seem so far away, huh?" he added, crunching on a seal.

            "Actually, I just wanted something in there in case the alcohol decided to make an encore appearance," she said with a smirk. He smiled. "Didn't settle too well."

            "Stress and alcohol don't mix well, do they?" She shook her head. "Tell me a secret," he said suddenly. She looked over at him, a quizzical expression posed. "Something no one else knows." She thought for a moment.

            "When I was six," she said, a small smile working its way onto her face, "I used to sneak out my window and sit on the roof pretending to smoke rolled up pieces of paper." Her smile grew as his quiet laugh echoed against the walls of the kitchen. "I could never find a lighter or matches, not like it would do me any good." She snickered. "Probably light the house on fire." Another moment of silence. "Your turn," she posed. He sighed.

            "Well." He cleared his throat. "I used to sneak out of the house when I was little and go down the street to sit in on a mass." She looked at him, mouth hanging open. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness again after the assault of the refrigerator light, she could see him shrug. "Foster parents were still asleep. I went to the midnight masses every Sunday for about a month before they found out."  

            "That's not a secret then," she said quietly.

            "What do you mean?"

            "If your foster parents know…" she trailed off, the expression on his face telling the whole story. "How old were you?"

            "Twelve." She couldn't bring herself to ask. "I got home one night and the cops were there. Wouldn't let me go in." He was staring down at a half-eaten seal, turning it in circles between his fingers. "Never did find out what happened."

            "You didn't?" He shook his head.

            "Didn't really care," he said quietly. "I was on my own after that."

            "At twelve?"

            "Like you've got room to talk," he said quickly, a playful smirk playing on his lips. She shrugged.

            "Did you ever go back?'

            "To the foster house?"

            "No, to masses." He shook his head.

            "Nah," he said. "Didn't have any reason to." She wasn't sure if she wanted to ask what that meant, so she let it go. For once, the silence that settled over them didn't bother her. In fact, she welcomed it in a way. And then something struck her.

            "I'm sorry, Riddick." She watched his eyes lock on hers and looked away. "About the whole bar thing."

            "Don't worry about it."

            "No really," she insisted. "I don't know what got into me. I shouldn't have run off without telling you where I was going, and I shouldn't have let my temper get out of control." He just waited. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "And I shouldn't have gone off on you."

            "Jack—"

            "You were just worried about me."

            "Yeah," he said quietly. "I was."

            "He just pissed me off so much," she exclaimed, falling forward to lean her elbows on the table. "He wouldn't leave me alone. And his pick up lines totally sucked, and that didn't help at all." Riddick laughed. "I'm serious!"

            "I know you are. It's just funny."

            "No, it's not."

            "No, I don't mean the situation was funny. Just that you remembered his pick up lines sucking." He shrugged. "It just struck me." She finally laughed.

            "Yeah, I guess."

            "What was it, anyway?"

            "What was what?" she asked.

            "His pick up line."

            "Oh, uh," she thought for a minute. "Something about that being a long face for such a pretty girl or something cheesy and creepy like that." She sighed. "I've heard some good ones before, and that didn't qualify." Riddick snickered.

            "So what would you consider a good one?"

            "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Give me one." His eyebrow rose.

            "I don't have any, Jack."

            "Aw, come on. Every guy has at least one."

            "Not I," Riddick said, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest. "Never needed 'em."

            "Don't flatter yourself," Jack spat with a snort. "The best one I ever heard was 'Are you wearing Star Wars underwear? 'Cause your butt is out of this world'." She started at his roaring laugh.

            "That's a good one? Hell, that's cheesy."

            "Well, you do better then," Jack challenged.

            "I told you I don't have any," he insisted. She sighed, leaning back in her chair again. His face grew serious again. "Why did you have a long face anyway?"

            "'Long face," Jack repeated. "Where the hell did that phrase come from anyway?"

            "Don't dodge, Jack." She sighed.

            "Just have a lot on my mind right now."

            "Well, get some of it off your mind." His suggestion seemed so simple but she knew it wasn't.

            "I can't."

            "Why not?"

            "I just can't, Riddick." The tone of her voice should have told him to quit pushing, but he didn't listen.

            "That's not a reason. 'Why not' is a question that calls for a reason, not a good attempt at dodging."

            "You wouldn't understand," she said, hoping he would drop the subject. No such luck.

            "Try me." She could feel his eyes boring into her, and she just shook her head. "Why?"

            "Will 'because I don't want to' work?" she asked quietly.

            "For now."

            "Well, then because I don't want to." She smirked. "For now, I guess." He sighed.

            "When are you gonna start trusting me again, Jack?"

            "This isn't a trust thing," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I need to work this out on my own."

            "Fair enough." He stood.

            "Where are you going?"

            "Try to get some sleep."

            "Oh," she said, her face falling slightly.

            "Why? What's up?"

            "I was just enjoying the conversation." She shrugged. "Before it got deep and Jack-centered." Riddick chuckled, drawing a smile.

            "I thought you wanted deep conversations."

            "Well, the animal cracker thing was entertaining," she mused, smirking.

            "Animal cookie thing, you mean." She shrugged.

            "Yeah, whatever."

            "How's your head feeling?"

            "Like someone took a mixer to it," she said quietly.

            "No, I mean your cut," he clarified with a snicker.

            "It hurts," she said, reaching up to feel the bandage. His hand shot out and pulled her fingers from her forehead. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning him.

            "Don't touch." Her eyebrow rose. "Don't want to get it infected."

            "Geez," she said, making a face. "My hand's aren't that dirty." He let his fingers lace between hers and tugged on her arm, pulling her out of the chair.

            "You need to get some sleep too."

            "I'm not tired," she said, stifling a yawn.

            "Yeah, right," he said, settling an arm around her shoulder. "After a day like today you've got to be tired." She shrugged against him, letting him lead her down the hallway back to her room. He lingered at the doorway, still holding her firmly against his side. She stood there for a moment before looking up at him. "Night, Jack," he said quietly, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She didn't move away from him, losing herself in those silvery pools staring down at her. Her hand, growing a mind of its own, snaked up to touch his cheek, and the silver disappeared behind closed lids. She felt him press against her hand and let her thumb trace a line from the side of his nose to where her other fingers rested. His eyes snapped open, the absence of her skin against his leaving a cold, empty feeling.

            "I missed you," she whispered. His arms wound around her waist, pulling her off the floor into a crushing bear hug.

            "I've always been here," he responded, silently sniffing at her hair. _Jasmine_. A small smirk.

            "I'm sorry about everything," she said, her words muffled into his shoulder.

            "Don't be." He let her go, setting her back on the floor and tousling her hair. "It's done now. No point dwelling on it." She nodded with a shrug. "Get some sleep." She didn't move away from him, and, for some reason, he couldn't stand to be this close to her any more. He sent her a meager smile and turned.

            "Riddick?"

            "Yeah." He turned slightly.

            "Never mind." He watched her crawl under the covers and shut the door, rubbing his eyes as he walked back to his room. He couldn't stop the gravelly groan as he flopped onto his bed, shaking the cob webs out of his head. _What the hell am I doing?_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

            Jack lay awake that night, replaying the events just before Riddick left her standing in her room. It seemed to her that he'd decided he'd give her the cold shoulder for a while. Just before he left to retire to his room, he'd seemed fidgety, like he couldn't wait to get away from her – like she made him nervous or something. She sighed, flopping over onto her side.

            _What the hell am I doing?_ she questioned herself, squeezing her eyes shut. The back engines hummed quietly, the small vibrations following the metal architecture of the small space vessel. She'd not slept through an entire night in nearly a month now, and it seemed like Riddick was always up when she was, or got up shortly after she did, no matter what part of the simulated circadian rhythm it was. She shook her head. _I need to just grow some balls and tell him how I feel about him_.

            Her eyes opened slowly, focusing on a small spot of remaining rust on the wall. _But how do I feel about him, really?_ She shifted onto her back, resting her head in the crook of the bent elbow raised above her head. _Don't lie to yourself now, Jack. Work this out before it's too late._ She had the feeling something was going to happen that would end up being a turning point in whatever their relationship was at this point, and it wasn't really a good feeling. Her ankle twitched and she rotated it, working the joint until it popped and stopped aching. She had the urge to stand up and walk around, but she shook her head. _You are not getting out of this bed until you figure this shit out. _ 

            She sighed and closed her eyes, playing back memories, both old and new, of her time with Riddick. Images ran through her head – the playful banter, short spats, fights that almost turned into brawls, and the few times he got close enough to touch her. A shudder coursed over her, once again feeling his lips on her shoulder as though it were happening all over again. She rolled over onto her stomach buryng her face in her pillow. He'd kissed her back on Kallipolis, when she wasn't really sure if it was him or not. _God damn contacts_, she thought. With a groan, she sat up in bed, finally giving in to the itch for movement. She dug through a new bag in her closet and opened the package of wrapping, the pattern of wrapping her wrists and hands almost unconscious, automatic.

            She opened the door and peered into the hall. All was quiet, the air hanging thickly through the ship. Her feet padded silently down the corridor, and the creak of the door into the dojo made her cringe. She paused and waited. No new sounds. All alone on a quiet ship with Riddick asleep a few doors down.

            Sweat poured down her body. She'd discarded the sleep shirt she'd worn into the dojo, tossing it into a heap near the wall. Once she got going, it was much more comfortable in a sport bra and shorts. The quiet grunts escaping her disappeared behind the sounds of her fists making contact with the leather bag. The more she thought, the harder she punched. The more she remembered, the harder she punched. _God, this feels good, _she thought, reveling in the cathartic release the punching bag was granting her.

            She paused to let the bag calm down and wipe her forehead with the back of a hand. It was getting harder to catch up with it, the power behind her swings making it sway back and forth. She didn't know she'd been going at it for nearly an hour now. Her muscles ached, screaming for her to stop, but she couldn't. It just felt too good to be doing this again.

            _I thought he'd said he was planning on converting part of the cargo hold into a dojo,_ she thought. _Maybe he's gonna convert this into something else, move it downstairs for more room. _She pushed the thought away, concentrating once more on the bag in front of her. She didn't know her grunts had gotten louder, her breathing heavy with a touch of whimper each time she exhaled. And yet the fist to bag contact was still louder, growing with each strike.

            The air shifted, and she knew he was watching. She paused slightly, suddenly angered at the intrusion. The increase in power behind her punches grew with each new blow, and the anger started to melt away. He just watched silently as she landed two more hard swipes, finishing her therapy with a hard kick before letting her arms drop to her sides.

            "You're gonna wear yourself out that way," he said quietly, once he was sure she was through. She turned and looked him over as he leaned against the door frame.

            "That's the intention," she replied breathlessly, she body protesting already as she bent over to pick up her shirt. She looped it around her shoulders and unwrapped her wrists. "Might actually sleep now." He smirked.

            "You might want to consider taking it a little easier next time," he suggested. "I need you in top shape in case we have any new repairs." Her eyebrows rose.

            "What do you think that was all about?" she asked. "I'm staying in shape."

            "You're gonna be sore." She shrugged.

            "The price of fitness," she said simply.

            "Maybe we should start working out together," he suggested.

            "Wouldn't be a fair fight," she said, walking past him toward the kitchen. He pushed himself away from the door and followed, watching her extract a glass and fill it with water, gulping it down greedily. She'd read his mind – he was all for a sparring match. She emptied the glass and set it in the sink, wiping the water moustache from her upper lip. "I'm not sure I want you hitting me," she said, her eyebrow quirked.

            "I wouldn't hit you hard enough to leave a mark." He reached out and smoothed a sweat-soaked strand of hair away from the cut on her forehead. His hand retracted quickly, as though he'd been scalded, and he turned away from her to rummage through the fridge.

            "What's with the cold shoulder lately?" she asked, gulping down the lump rising in her throat.

            "What do you mean?" His voice was thick. She didn't answer, so he turned back to her, watching her just stare back at him.

            "Seems like you don't want to be close to me anymore," she said with a shrug. "Just an observation." He choked down a sigh. It'd been meant to keep him from doing something he might regret; something he'd hoped she wouldn't notice. All the affectionate gestures recently had just slipped by his defense against himself.

            "You're reading too much into things."

            "Am I?" She stared up at him, taking small, deliberate steps toward him. His voice was nowhere to be found. The look in her eye made him hesitate to even think about what he would say if he could answer. She stopped a foot's length away from him, those big green eyes staring into the depths of what were once his dark chocolate ones. His whole body tensed at her proximity. "I guess we'll see," she said with a shrug. His brows furled in confusion. "Should we pencil in sparring between repairs and mapping? Or should we just set a time every day to set aside for it?"

            "Whatever you want to do." His voice had finally returned. She smiled up at him and stepped away. 

            "I'm getting in the shower." She collected her shirt and wraps from the counter and turned to exit the room. "Night."

            As soon as she was out of earshot, he let out a low, rumbling growl, leaning against the refrigerator behind him and letting his head fall back against the cold metal as his eyes closed. It would be a long night with as anxious as he was for tomorrow to arrive.

            He'd waited all day, and she'd given him no signs of when their first sparring match would take place. It was killing him. He wasn't even sure she was serious enough to carry through. The way she posed the suggestion seemed too ambiguous for him to count on the match ever really happening. He'd already prepared himself for the very real possibility of having to settle for beating up the bag instead of sparring gently with her.

            She rounded the corner, concentrating intently on wrapping her wrists. He almost leapt out of the pilot's chair to attack her right then and there. Almost. She'd stopped in the middle of the room, still consumed in her preparations, so he took the chance to examine her. White wife beater and black yoga pants.

            "She makes good on her promise." She only nodded in return, fastening the tape. "Not sore?" A slight shrug. "Sure?" Small nod.

            "Sure you're up for it?" she asked, raising her eyes to his. They sparkled back at him, the glint either nervousness or excitement for a new workout. He wasn't sure which.

            "The question is," he said slowly, standing to stretch lazily, "are you?" She just snickered and left the room. He changed into gray sweats and a black tee shirt, finding her already in the dojo, spread out in a stretch, wife beater already on the floor. His eyebrow rose. "That can't be comfortable." She was tangled in an outer hip stretch, one leg folded under her, the other extended straight out behind her, her upper body bent over, arms above her head and hands splayed out on the floor. She sighed contentedly.

            "Amazing feeling," was all she said. He shook his head, leaning over to stretch his hamstrings. They went through their own series of stretches, and she waited, watching him finish the last of his. "Rules?"

            "Not for you," he said with a shrug. She smiled wickedly, prompting him to correct himself. "But be nice." She snickered. "I won't take any responsibility for my actions if you go for the weak spot."

            "Even if it's an accident?"

            "No promises."

            They stood there looking at each other for a moment, until Jack laughed nervously.

            "Well, this is awkward," she said quietly. "How do you want to start?" He answered by faking a lunge at her, watching her instantly take a defensive stance. Her face was set as they circled each other, both tense as they waited each other out, not wanting to make the first move. She finally gave in, throwing a punch, which he dodged, and a swift kick, which he deflected. She cringed and tried another series of assaults, not really landing much. Their eyes were locked as they circled more than they attacked or defended, Jack still making all the advances. Riddick finally gave in, landing a kick to her shoulder and a swift jab to her solar plexus. She grunted, quickly regaining her stance. Her breathing quickened, but only slightly. He threw another series of blows, but she did a better job of deflecting or dodging this time. She cuffed her nose with a thumb and threw herself into a mad kicking spree, finally landing one to the side of his head.

            "Nice," he commented, shaking the shock off. She didn't respond, still intent on every movement. He held up a hand and she lowered her stance, dropping her hands to her sides. She watched, fighting to keep her mouth closed as he ripped the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

            "Ready?" she asked. He took his posture, and the circling resumed. He caught her hand mid-swing and twisted her arm behind her back. She struggled, but he didn't let go. He placed two fingers on the small of her back, one on either side of her spine, and pushed forward gently. All movement from her halted, and her breath blasted out of her nose in short spurts.

            "Remember this," he said. She was surprised at how close his voice was to her ear. "Push harder for the kill." His hand flattened against her back and he released her arm, his hand remaining until she caught her breath. His skin burned against hers but still conjured goose bumps.

            She twisted, locking an arm around his neck and dropping her weight, attempting to drag him to the floor. He was faster, flipping her over his shoulder and onto her back, legs pinned under his chest in an awkward, twisted position, hands held firmly against the floor at her sides. She groaned, shifting to get her feet flat against his chest before pushing up as hard as she could, sending him reeling backwards. He popped back up and they circled again.

            She landed a kick in the gut, distracting him enough to dart behind him and turn a cartwheel, snapping her knees around his neck and dropping him backwards. They rolled, landing with her crouching over his chest, legs crossed behind his back, heels digging into his shoulder blades. He grimaced, struggling for a moment before swinging a leg up to mimic her move, locking a knee around her neck and pulling her back. She fell over onto his side, dragging him with her.

            "Where the fuck did you learn that?" he asked, his voice strained from the pressure of the hold.

            "Some cheesy action movie," she answered, voice equally as rough. He chuckled.

            "Wanna let me up now?"

            "Why don't you let me up first?" she countered. "I pinned you first."

            "And I pinned you back," he pointed out.

            "Shit." She sighed. "On the count of three." He tried to chuckle again, but couldn't get enough air. "One… two… three." Neither moved. "Shit, Riddick. You didn't move."

            "Neither did you." She struggled a little, and he tightened his grip.

            "Riddick, I can't breathe."

            "Neither can I."

            "No, seriously. I've got little black dots swimming in front of my eyes." He released her and she relaxed, letting him untangle himself from her limbs. She let her eyes close, chest heaving. He leaned over her, concerned. Her hand snapped around his wrist, twisting him to the floor, one knee pinning his legs down, the other pressed into his back. Her hands rested on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscle slowly.

            "You're a sneak," he mumbled, muffled by the carpet. She snickered, collapsing against him, shifting so her legs fell on either side of his waist, her forehead pressed into the nape of his neck.

            "That was fun," she said, her breath tickling the damp skin between his shoulder blades.

            "What makes you think it's over?" he asked. She almost got out of his reach, but wasn't quick enough. He grabbed an ankle and flipped over, sending her sprawling into the floor. She sat there for a moment, watching him jump a few times before crouching, hands poised for attack.

            "Riddick, I'm tired."

            "You tricked me," he said, straightening.

            "Yeah? So?" She looked up at him with the most exasperated look she could muster without laughing. His eyebrow rose and he walked over to her, offering her a hand to get up. She placed her hand in his and her foot darted out, knocking his feet out from under him. His grip on her wrist pulled her down as well, and she fell on top of him to straddle him, hands planted, arms trembling, on either side of his head.

            "You fight dirty," he said, staring up at her. She just grinned wickedly before her arms gave out. A small grunt escaped him as she landed on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sighed.

            "You're not even breathing hard," she said despondently.

            "Yeah, well, you'll get there eventually," he said with a slight shrug. He could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, raspy gasps. "Think that's enough for one day?" he asked, smiling as she nodded vigorously. With shaky arms, she pressed herself up to sit on his hips. He didn't mean for that groan to get out, but it did. Too late to fight reflexes. She stood quickly, the sudden repositioning making her dizzy.

            "Sorry," she mumbled, blushing furiously. He shook his head, still sprawled in the floor. He lifted a hand to dismiss the apology and let it drop back to the floor with a quiet thud. She bent to pick up her shirt and pulled it over her head, wrapping her arms around herself as he sat up. Her cheeks were still flushed.

            "It's not a big deal, Jack," he said, standing slowly. She shrugged, shifting her weight back and forth between feet.

            "I'm gonna take a shower," she said quickly, turning to go. He caught her elbow and restrained her.

            "Jack." She looked up at him, eyes still wide. He smiled and shook his head with a quiet laugh. "It's okay." She nodded and smiled weakly, pulling her arm from his graps and leaving the room. He sighed and retrieved his shirt. _Definitely innocent,_ he thought with a wince. _If she's that embarrassed over something like that, she's not gonna make a move first._ He rubbed his neck, shuffling into the cockpit.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

            Jack collapsed onto the bed, her eyes instantly slamming shut. All that existed was the mattress under her, the pillow fluffing around her head, her soft cotton pajamas, and the soreness. Her whole body hurt. She figured the shower would help keep her from tensing up after the workout with Riddick, but it didn't. She ached all over. Her temples throbbed, face still warm, embarrassment still clinging. _Shoulda__ known better than to do that, Jack_, she scolded herself. _Completely inadvertent, but still.__ Anatomy is anatomy._ She sighed and pushed the thought away, slowly lulling into sleep.

            Riddick was equally as tuckered out. He felt sleep looming as he sat in the pilot's chair, watching the distant stars laze by. He sighed contentedly. He'd missed having a sparring partner. That was one of the few good things about Slam. There was always someone to fight with. Granted, most of the time it didn't qualify as sparring. _More like an all-out melee,_ he thought with a smirk. As he drifted off, he flipped through his mental photos of Jack's many expressions filed away in his memory, a small smile remaining.

            Jack woke in a fog, giving up on prying her eyes open further than a narrow slit. _God, I must have slept hard,_ she thought, shaking her head. Not a good idea. Her neck warmed in protest, head spinning and face throbbing. _Shit. Harder than I've ever slept before. _She shuffled into the cockpit, finding Riddick punching away furiously at the mainframe's keyboard. She mumbled a 'good morning,' which was almost indecipherable, and flopped into the co-pilot's seat.

            "Sleep good?" She mumbled again in response, suddenly wanting to crawl back in bed and go back to sleep. He chuckled next to her, back still turned. She just sat there, dazed, groaning every time she moved. "Sore today?" Another mumble. "Shit, Jack." She pried her eyes open. "Are you okay?" She shrugged, groaning as she tried to sit up. "Jesus Christ."

            "What?" She finally got her eyes open all the way. They had to be bloodshot with as scratchy as they felt. "Soreness is normal, Riddick."

            "Yeah, but bruises aren't." Her eyebrow rose. _Hell, even my hair is sore._

            "What bruises?"

            "I didn't think I hit you that hard yesterday."

            "What bruises, Riddick?" He just looked at her, so she got up and went into the bathroom to look for herself. "Wow." It was all she could think of. "What did you do to me?" He appeared in the mirror behind her, concern written all over his face. He sat on the edge of the tub. She had a large bruise on her cheek, and another right above her eyebrow. The injured one. What had been a healing cut yesterday was now swollen and red, the edges dry and peeling. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face.

            "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't know I was—"

            "It's not a big deal, Riddick," she said, her voice echoing against the sink. "It'll go away."

            "Yeah, but—"

            "Will you stop?" She grinned over at him. "Battle scars. Really, I'm okay." He still looked concerned as she leaned forward to inspect her cut more closely. "Cut's not doing so hot though," she said slowly. Riddick would have laughed at the face she made to see her wound, if he weren't so pissed off at himself for not being careful enough.

            "C'mere," he said, standing. She sat on the counter again, watching him prepare to clean her cut, once again hissing at the peroxide. His hand cupped her cheek as he smeared some antibiotic goo on it before pulling her against him. "I'm sorry, Jack." She shook her head.

            "I guess we're even now." He pulled back to look at her, eyes questioning hers. She blushed, and he made the connection, laughing a little.

            "Yeah, I guess so. You got the worse end, though," he said, stepping back so she could slide off the counter. She shrugged.

            "Add the jail thing and it balances out."

            "Will you stop treating me like I'm made of glass?" Jack was pissed off. Another sparring match was under way. Her bruises were almost gone, cut almost completely healed, and he still barely swatted at her. She threw a series of punches and followed with a few successful kicks. She stopped, hands on her hips, and glared at him. "I'm not fragile, Riddick. I can handle this." His eyebrow rose. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What's the fun in sparring if it's harder to beat up the God damn punching bag?"

            "I don't want you looking like ground beef, Jack," he said slowly.

            "I don't care if you don't want me looking like ground beef," she retorted, voice raising a few levels. "I want a fucking fight, okay?" He sighed. "How am I gonna learn to handle myself if I don't have anyone to teach me?"

            "Jack, if you have to go into town after we work out, and you look like you did a few days ago, there's gonna be trouble no matter what planet we're on, and I'm not talking child welfare services." She laughed, doubling over. The more he watched her laugh, the more his smile grew. After she got herself under control, she straightened and walked over to him, leaning up on her toes to get her face closer to his. His smile fell, eyes suddenly entranced on her lips.

            "I think we could handle that between the two of us." She smiled up at him coyly, but it dropped quickly as she wrapped an arm around his neck and tried to wrestle him to the floor. "If you start fighting back, you motherfucker," she finished, not getting him anywhere near the floor because of her intruding laughter. His arm wrapped around her belly, gripping her side tightly before he flipped her completely over, sending her to the floor with a strangled "hughngh." She fought to get the wind back for a few moments, but lost it in another fit of laughter. She barely managed to lift her foot to knock him to the ground with her, but he landed hard, sprawling into a laughing heap. "Well, that was fun," she said, once she regained her composure. "My cheeks hurt." A few sporadic chuckles broke the silence here and there. She rolled over onto her side to face him, propping her head up on a hand. He was still grinning.

            "You're gonna be the death of me," he sighed.

            "You can't be tired." He looked over at her. "You didn't do anything but stand there," she teased, reaching out to punch his shoulder playfully. He caught her wrist, pulling her across his chest. His other hand ran through her hair, his face now serious.

            "I'd never to anything to hurt you, Jack." She blinked a few times. He sighed, letting his hand drop to her shoulder, thumb running slowly across the side of her neck. "Not intentionally, anyway," he added quietly, a smug expression clouding his eyes. She just stared back at him, not knowing what to say. "Promise me you'll tell me if I do." Her brows knitted. "I don't think I'd catch on unless you just told me." She nodded slightly. They lay there, just staring at each other for a while, until Riddick cocked his head and a lazy grin spread over his face.

            "What?" She tried to pull back, but he'd snuck an arm around her waist. "What are you plotting?" His smile was contagious, even if she was suspicious of what he was getting ready to do. She shrieked as he started to tickle her, wriggling out of his grasp and running for the door. He caught her a few paces away, dragging her, screaming, to the floor. She kicked and struggled against him, but couldn't get away. "Riddick, stop, please." Another shriek, followed by violent laughter. "No. God, shit. You're mean! Jesus Christ." She tried to elbow him in the ribs but couldn't get the right angle, and any effort to push him back was completely lost. Her strength was draining quickly. "Riddick, STOP." She made her face as serious as she could, and he complied. "You are so mean," she said between gasps. He just grinned down at her.

            Their faces grew serious simultaneously as they both realized just how close they were to each other. Jack swallowed, stomach flipping. He brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead and let his thumb trail lazily over her lower lip. Her eyes ran rapidly over his face, trying to read him, but he was staring so attentively at her lips she couldn't. Everything went into slow motion as he leaned down, eyes flitting up to hers for an instant before closing when their lips touched. She didn't respond at first, and he didn't move until she pressed up against him, letting her hand slide up his arm to encircle his neck. He didn't want to take it too far this time. She lifted her head to follow him as he retreated, but he gently pushed her back from him.

            Her eyes locked with his, the lack of understanding why he pulled away so quickly shining through. He smiled softly, a finger lightly following an imaginary line down the side of her face. 

            "Jack—"

            "Shh." She shushed him with a finger against his lips, the finger replaced quickly with her lips, pressing insistently against his. He drew a sharp breath, eyes slamming shut as sensation took over. The heated kiss slowed, ending with a quiet smack amid two competing sets of gasps.

            "I don't want to push this," he whispered. She shook her head, staring up at him out from under heavy lids.

            "Yes you do," she replied quietly, smiling at the confused look on his face. "Someone has to, and I can tell you right now, you don't want it to be me."

            "Why's that?" She blushed and averted his eyes.

            "Nothing would ever happen."

            "Jack, if you're not comfortable—"

            "I'm perfectly comfortable with this," she interjected adamantly. "I just…" She trailed off with a sigh.

            "You just what?" he pressed.

            "I don't know what I'm doing," she mumbled quietly. He smiled slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. Evidently she'd decided to grow it out.

            "You'll figure it out," he answered, watching her chew on her lip. "If you're not comfortable with something, don't." She nodded.

            "But how do you tell the difference between not being comfortable with something and being nervous about it?" His eyebrow rose.

            "You're gonna have to figure that one out," he said, pulling her to her feet with him. "That I can't tell you." She sighed.

            "If you're going to make me do all the work, nothing's gonna get done," she insisted.

            "If you want it badly enough, it'll happen," he said, kissing her forehead and leaving her to stare at the empty dojo.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

            She sat on the stairs leading down to the cargo hold, maybe two or three steps from the bottom, just staring across the large room to watch small drops of water fall from the air conditioner to a growing puddle on the floor. Judging from the sounds above her and to the left, Riddick was pacing in the kitchen. Neither had bothered to take a shower, and neither had spoken in the two hours that had passed since the kiss they shared. The look overriding the silver shadow of his eyes was transfixed in her memory, the glint of light off the water droplets falling slowly and sporadically mirroring that emotion she'd seen and hadn't quite figured out. A combination of satisfaction, relief, and lust, maybe. _Is that a good thing?_ Her brow furled as she tried to sort things out.

            A heavy sigh, a shake of the head, a rub of the eyes. Nothing helped. She kept wondering if things would be easier for her – if it would be easier for her to make the move instead of making him – if she'd not kept up the disguise and learned the essentials sooner. She'd overheard conversations about what was supposed to be done in certain situations, what to say, what not to say, what to do, what not to do. But hearing from someone and knowing first hand were two completely different and irreconcilable things. She hated not knowing her role in all of this, hated not knowing what he expected or wanted from her. She glanced up the stairs at the half-open door leading to the main deck and sighed. Her eyes closed as her head dropped to her knees, pulled tightly to her chest.

            He stopped rubbing his shoulder, hand still cupping the muscle loosely, when he smelled her walk into the room. He didn't turn to the doorway, didn't say anything. His skin prickled more intensely the closer she ventured toward him, but he still didn't move, as though he were letting his prey come to him before attacking. The attack would never come, though. Not from him. He'd put the ball in her court – this was her play. He'd stopped pacing when he heard her stand and start up the steps, deciding to sit in one of the chairs facing away from the door. He hadn't meant to indulge his tension with a slight rub – it was more of an instinctual response to the growing numbness. She was just behind him, and he still didn't move, even his breaths silent.

            The world went dark as his eyes closed at her touch, slipping almost unnoticed under his hand, replacing his light massage with hers, fingers exploring an uncharted territory. Her contact became more confident gradually, the tension finally starting to melt away. He let out a contented sigh as her fingers worked a trail down the length of his spine, stopping at the top of the chair. Breath became gasp as her lips touched the side of his neck, but he still didn't reach for her.

            "I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered, apologetically, pulling away and walking toward the door. The room was suddenly too cold to him, and he turned. She paused a few steps into the hallway and turned, eyes sad, as though he'd rejected her, but the look on his face seemed to contradict – he felt as though she'd rejected him instead. She managed a small smile and looked away.

            "You were doing fine," he finally said. She flushed, but didn't say anything – didn't look up at him.        

            "You didn't say anything," she finally commented. He sighed.

            "Too distracted." Her eyes met his, a smile touching the slightest corners of her lips, but it fell quickly. He nodded for her to return, and she complied after a fleeting moment's hesitation. As soon as she was within reach, his hand settled on her hip, pulling her to straddle his chair, facing him. Even with her above him, he looked down at her, her eyes betraying her nervousness. His face was gentle as he shook his head, his free hand sliding up an arm to rest at the back of her neck. He didn't have to guide her to him – just the slightest bit of pressure was all she needed to let her lips attack his, the air between them suddenly expelled. Her fingers roved over his head, the day's stubble tingling nerves. She pulled away first, gasping, forehead resting against his chin.

            "I've never done this before," she said quietly. His eyes opened, and he pulled away to search her eyes. It was an admission that obviously terrified her. She flushed crimson and let her eyes close, her fingers tightening on his shoulders as though she were trying to keep herself from falling backward, but she didn't waver. "Show me." It was just a whisper, but it was all the encouragement he needed. His lips worked a hint of a trail from the hollow of her throat to the crook of her jaw, hands sliding down her arms and settling on her thighs, tightening at the sharp intake of breath she granted him. His fingers slid behind her knees as he stood, walking to his room, his lips slowly conquering hers.

            Her eyes never opened, even as he lowered her to the bed and lingered above her, smoothing her hair as his kiss continued its assault. Her hands never strayed from his shoulders, though they explored the terrain she'd already discovered. The stirring in his groin was growing more insistent, and he barely confined the urge to grind against her. No, he had to do this slowly. He settled for relaxing against her, lips returning to the soft skin of her neck, smiling against her as her breath grew more erratic.

            His fingers found the hem of her shirt, sliding upwards to expose her stomach, thumbs teasing and tickling up to her ribs, then replacing hands with lips. Her back arched as his lips continued their exploration, abs tightening the lower he ventured. A movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to see her reach down and remove the shirt he displaced, revealing the black sport bra underneath. Her eyes opened and she swallowed the lump in her throat as his thumbs hooked in the waistband of her pants. He paused, watching her. They just stared at each other for a moment.

            "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly. The nod she returned served a dual purpose – to convince him as much as herself. He didn't continue, but didn't withdraw, either. She nodded again, her hands covering his encouragingly. She forced her eyes to close again as the material slid down her legs, hoping there was a way she could escape his sight, but even the dark couldn't do that. All she could do was not see him seeing her.

            His lips settled on hers again, and she was suddenly irritated at his remaining clothing. Her hands searched out the hem of his shirt, and he broke the kiss only long enough for her to wrench it away and toss it somewhere on the floor. A moan escaped her as she unconsciously rolled her hips, making contact, drawing a hiss from him. His breath blasted against her cheek, lips never breaking from hers.

            She hooked her toes in the waistband of his sweats, pressing the arches of her feet into his skin as she drew them down. She mentally thanked him for not getting the ones with elastic ankles. That would have made for an awkward moment she didn't think she could have dealt with this time. He gently bit her bottom lip, drawing a whimper as she drew her feet back up to rest in the crooks of his knees, shifting below him. A nervous giggle escaped her as she fought with the sport bra, regretting the choice the instant she tried to discard it. He was too distracted by what she exposed to notice, and her fingers stopped working as his lips closed around an aching nipple, easing the strain with a swirl of his tongue. Her back arched, allowing his hand to span the small of her back. Both crests were treated with equal attention before his hands slipped down her sides, sliding below her panties to draw them down her legs. He kissed the inside of a knee and the opposite thigh before leaning in to taste. Her breath halted, her back arching again before she let out a groan. It was only a taste, and then he moved on, his lips leaving a trail of heat back up her body before he hovered over her.

            Her eyes opened to reveal a serious face, lids heavy, eyes focused on her. She reached up and let her hand cup his cheek before sliding around to the back of his neck, drawing him down to kiss her. She'd missed those lips on hers. He allowed her only a short kiss, though, withdrawing to look at her again.

            "Last chance to change your mind," he said slowly. A nervous smile, and then a shake of her head. He kissed her slowly, watching her eyes close before guiding himself to her. _Slowly_, he reminded himself. Her brow twitched downward a bit, and he paused, waiting until her face relaxed. She drew in a sharp breath, and he paused again, waiting. His lips broke away, and he pressed his cheek to hers, pushing forward again, feeling her tense, and then pausing. Another advance, and her fingers dug into his skin. He kissed her shoulder, hand caressing her side, pressing on until she whimpered. He felt the resistance give, but didn't continue. Her fingers still dug into him, and a sniffle caught his attention. He glanced up at her, watching a tear slide down a reddened cheek. "Okay?" She shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. "Want me to stop?" She shook her head again, rubbing her eyes. "Sure?" A small nod. She removed her hand from her face and opened her eyes, letting another tear break free. He leaned forward to stop it with a kiss, receiving a small smile. She lifted her head to capture his lips, and he continued forward in a long, slow stride, stopping when he could go no further. She trembled under him, fingers still digging. He waited for a while, the stillness maddening, but he wanted this to be right. She clenched and unclenched around him, but he remained unmoving until she ground her hips against his, rewarded with a groan vibrating through both of them. Her back arched as he withdrew and pressed forward again slowly. She whimpered against his lips, not out of pain this time.

            Her hands started exploring again, sliding against his skin as she met his thrusts halfway. She tore her lips from his, kissing his face, neck – anywhere within reach. His grunts competed with her small gasps, hips gradually increasing their pace. Her hands tightened on his arms as she drew in a sharp breath and held it, biting down into his shoulder, driving him over the edge. The darkness swirled around her, vision impaired, nothing but sensation. She was vaguely aware of him still moving, a grunt punctuating each push until he stilled completely for a moment, finally sliding against her, a contented sigh fanning across her dampened skin, bringing goose bumps. They just lay there, motionless, sporadic breaths slowing.

            She opened her eyes slowly, fighting to focus on his eyes. A lazy grin slid across his lips as he leaned forward, kissing her lightly before lifting a heavy hand to caress her cheek softly, watching her eyes close at the gesture. He slowly rolled onto his back, the arm that had been under her pulling her against his side.

            "I'm cold," she whispered. He chuckled and nodded, and they both scuttled under the covers, returning to their embrace. She let a hand slide around his middle and then settle on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He covered her hand with his, the other hand tickling a light trail up and down the small of her back, smiling as she arched against him. She sighed contentedly as sleep hovered over both of them.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

            Riddick woke with a deep yawn, shifting under the covers. His eyes opened slowly when a hand trailed down his chest and around his side. A contented sigh and a lazy grin. He blinked a few times, clearing the fuzzy vision after sleep and looked down at her, curled against his side. His whole body tingled. _I haven't slept that good in ages_, he thought with a quiet snicker. He lifted a hand, smoothing her messy hair.  She pressed closer to his side, toes curling as she stretched her legs. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin. He couldn't stop the loud yawn, and she pulled away to look at him. When he opened his eyes, the look on her face was priceless, so he filed it away.

            "Your face disappeared," she said quietly, a playful smirk taking over. He shrugged, reaching over to tuck a tuft of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him weakly, letting her gaze drop from his. Every time she glanced up at him, he was looking back at her expectantly. She finally just focused on a scar on his chest, watching his stomach contract as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

            "Okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded, but only slightly. "Sure?" She glanced up at him quickly, and then looked away again. He sighed, shifting onto his side so he could look at her without straining his neck. She moved as well, burying her face in his neck, breathing in deeply. "Talk to me, Jack," he pressed.

            "I just feel weird now," she said with a quiet sigh.

            "Weird how?" She shrugged her answer. His fingers trailed a lazy path up and down her side and she shivered, moving her arm to cover her chest. He noticed, but didn't say anything.

            "Just weird." He nodded, as though it were actually clarification.

            "Hungry?" he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

            "Not really," she said with a small shrug. She watched him stand, stark naked, and walk out of the room, quickly snatching up her clothes strewn about the room and pulling them on. _Good God, I have to pee,_ she thought with a wince, rushing down the hall.

            She hurt. All over. The smell of toast wafted through the air, making her empty stomach gurgle. She smirked and brushed her teeth quickly. Morning breath sucked. She glanced down at herself, clothed in rumpled sportswear from yesterday, and made a face. Back to her room to change into pajamas.

            He'd gone back to his room and pulled on boxers before returning to the kitchen. She smiled, watching him fry bacon, a visual image of a naked man being splattered with grease dancing in her head. A snicker escaped, despite her efforts to suppress it. He turned slightly, eyebrow arched.

            "Just thinking about it being a good idea to be at least slightly dressed if you're playing with hot grease," she said as she rummaged through the fridge. He shook his head with a slight smile.

            "You're sick." She shrugged, the sly grin remaining. She sat across from him, sipping her water as she watched him eat.

            "What's on the agenda today?" she asked, instantly regretting it when the corners of his lips turned upward and his eyebrow rose. Her cheeks heated, and she hid behind her water. He cleared his throat.

            "Got a shipment to pick up and then we're on our way," he said, not voicing the thoughts running through his head. She nodded.

            "Where to?"

            "I don't know yet." She glanced up at him quizzically. "I'll find out when I get the shipment." Her lips formed a silent "oh."

            "No repairs?"

            "Not that I know of," he answered. "Might want to run diagnostics before we leave though."

            "I can do that while you're picking up the shipment." Silence settled over them as she swirled the water around in her glass. He watched her with interest. Something seemed a little off, but that was understandable, he figured. The first morning after was always awkward. _Hell any morning after is awkward._ "Any regrets?" she asked timidly, still staring into her water. He only stared at her for a moment until her eyes met his.

            "Not at all." She nodded, looking back down into her water. "You?" She paused too long for his comfort before shaking her head. "Would you tell me if there were?" Her eyes met his again, holding his gaze for a moment.

            "I guess," she said, dropping her eyes from his again. His eyebrow arched.

            "You guess?"

            "You want the truth?" she asked quietly.

            "Yes, I want the truth." There was a touch of frustration in his voice.

            "I don't know yet." He shook his head slightly.

            "You don't know yet," he repeated. She nodded. "You don't know about what yet?" She swallowed, stammering silently for a moment before sighing.

            "Regrets." Her voice was quiet and timid, as though she were afraid of what his reaction would be. He just scrunched his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, suddenly tired. She watched him carefully as he leaned forward, head in his hands.

            "You wanna let me know when you figure that out?" His voice was tight in his throat – gravelly. He looked up at her out from under furrowed brows, waiting for her answer. She nodded slightly. "Promise me," he continued.

            "I promise," she granted. He leaned back in his chair with a slightly satisfied nod, crossing his arms over his chest. She noticed his foot jiggling, jarring the table to create ripples in her water. "When are you picking up the shipment?" He glanced over at the clock on the microwave.

            "Few hours." She nodded slightly. Conversation seemed overrated right now. To both of them.

            "I'm gonna take a shower," she said finally as she stood. He watched her leave the room and let out a frustrated sigh.

            _She doesn't know if she regrets it,_ he thought, a foul but saddened expression twisting his face. _I could never forgive myself_. He shook his head, leaning his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands again.

            She couldn't scrub hard enough – or long enough. Her skin was reddened, but she just kept scraping her washcloth back and forth as quickly as she could. The water was starting to lose its heat, but she didn't notice, just stared into nothingness as she tried to wash the uncomfortable feeling away. A violent shudder broke her trance, and she shook her head, wiping away the tears she hadn't noticed falling.

            She dried off slowly, wrapping the towel around herself before pressing her ear to the door_. _It sounded like he was down in the cargo hold, so she darted down the hallway into her room.  She pulled on a pair of baggy cargos and a big, fluffy sweatshirt, finishing with her socks and boots before heading into the cockpit to run diagnostics.

            Time seemed to be crawling by as she watched the ellipses flash while the program worked at its snail's pace. She felt herself tense, and knew he was watching her. Those three flashing dots suddenly became very intriguing.

            "If I'm not back in two hours, lock up and stay low." His voice made her jump, and she just nodded slightly. She started again when she felt his fingers lace through her hair. "You gonna be okay?" he asked quietly, a concerned expression clouding his eyes. She nodded again, forcing a small smile. Her fingers tightened around the armrests as his lips touched her cheek, an eyebrow twitching downward quickly, and then he was gone.

            He sighed, twisting the dial to close the hatch to the cargo hold, watching as the ramp raised and locked into place. After making sure the new shipment was secure, he headed upstairs to the main cabin, which was eerily silent. He found her sleeping on her bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest, shaking slightly. She seemed so restless, and yet didn't move at all, save the trembling. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the bed next to her. She stirred, but didn't wake. Time, he knew, was of the essence right now, but he couldn't take off unless she was strapped in somewhere safe. As much as he hated to, he reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face, watching her jerk in her sleep. She still didn't wake. He just lay there next to her for a while, watching her.  Finally, he shook her, watching her start, jolting up and looking around, eyes wide.

            "We gotta go, Jack," he said gently, placing a hand gently on her back. She looked over at him, as though she didn't recognize him, and blinked a few times. "Got a new shipment to drop off. We have to get moving soon," he explained, a concerned expression returning. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes, before nodding and standing on shaky legs. He watched her for a moment, thinking she might fall over, but then followed her down the hallway into the cockpit.

            "I ran diagnostics while you were gone," she said quickly, busying herself with her harness.

            "Find anything?" She just shook her head, adjusting the straps. He nodded in satisfaction. She watched him reach over for the com handset.

            "Watch tower, this is Solar Eclipse requesting permission for takeoff," he said after clearing his throat.

            "Permission granted, Solar Eclipse." They both let out a sigh of relief. "Please proceed to runway 2F3." He replaced the handset and glanced over at her. She was just fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. Neither said a word as they approached the runway and took off. She waited until he activated the autopilot before unharnessing and standing, stretching lazily.

            "You cold or something?" he asked, glancing over the clothes she'd chosen. She glanced down as well, then shrugged. His eyebrow rose. She managed a small smile.

            "Hungry?" she finally asked, glancing toward the kitchen.

            "You go ahead," he said, "I'll be there in a minute." She gave him an odd look, but nodded and turned to leave. He watched, leaning sideways against the back of his chair, heaving a sigh.

            She was staring absent-mindedly at the apple she was eating, spinning it between her thumb and middle finger between bites. He smirked and started a pot of coffee, standing watch until the light flicked off.

            "Glad to see you're not having simulated gravity problems any more," he said, taking a sip before he sat. She smiled, picking at the skin on the apple.

            "I replaced that damn thing," she said, glancing up at him and back down.

            "When?"

            "Yesterday," she said with a shrug. "You were asleep in the cockpit." He nodded, lifting his mug again, watching her eyes follow his movement but not reach his eyes. "You have nice hands," she commented quietly. His eyebrow rose.

            "I have nice hands?" he asked, the smirk on his lips giving his voice a playful lilt. She just nodded, as though it were common knowledge. "My hands are anything but nice." She shrugged.

            "I think they're nice," she said, sounding somewhat defeated.

            "Jack, you know what my hands have done." There was a touch of agitation in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to cage it. She reached out, running her fingers over his.

            "Yeah," she replied, lifting her eyes to his. "I do." His eyes narrowed. "I still think they're nice." He focused his attention on the steam rising from the mug, clutching the handle more tightly than before. "Graceful," she added, prying his fingers open to take his hand into hers. She leaned forward, pausing to whisper "Beautiful" before settling her lips on a knuckle. His eyes closed, fingers tightening around hers.

            She stood suddenly, leaving the room. He drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, running a hand over his head. He really needed to shave. His neck popped as he worked his head back and forth before standing and heading into the bathroom. He heard her in the dojo and sighed. Evidently she had something to work out of her system, from the sound of the contact she was making. _Poor punching bag,_ he thought with a smirk. _She might be a little wisp of a thing, but she's got some bite to her bark_. He'd never told her she'd left bruises.

            After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he crossed the hallway and leaned against the doorframe. She definitely had a rhythm going. Right, left, right, left. Two beats of a pause. Right, left, right, left. Two beats of a pause. He didn't know each beat had a thought connected. _What have I done? Dammit. What have I done? Dammit. _His eyebrow rose as he watched her.

            "Got something to take out on someone?" he asked. She paused, cuffing her nose and bouncing a couple of times before hitting the bag again, a frustrated growl beating the sound of her fist making contact. He sighed and shoved off of the wall, walking into the room. "Sure seems like you're pissed off about something." Another hard punch, followed by a couple of kicks. "I didn't mean to break your rhythm," he said quietly, watching her pause and drop her stance, rolling her head to ease the building tension in her shoulders before going at it again.  "If I'd known you'd hit the damn thing so hard, I would've put in more bolts to hold it up," he said, a smirk in his voice. The smile on his face fell quickly as she whirled around, grabbing him around the neck and dropping her weight, pulling him to the ground with her.

            "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?" she asked harshly.

            "If you wanted a fight, you could have just said something," he said, breaking out of her hold. She was sent sprawling across the floor, chest heaving. He stood, staring down at her. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly, suddenly taken with the reddened skin on her arms and belly, exposed by her choice of sportswear.  She glanced down.

            "Heat rash," she said quickly, standing to take a defensive stance. He just stood there, still watching her, not making any move toward a sparring match.

            "Don't fuck with me, Jack," he warned, turning his head slightly. She knew that look. It wasn't usually one that meant he was going to give her a big hug.

            "I got a little overzealous with the washcloth," she said, still in her posture.

            "You wanna tell me why?"

            "Are you gonna spar with me or not?" she asked quickly, hoping to avoid the long questioning she was sure would follow if she answered him.

            "Jack," he warned. She sighed. It sucked how all it took was one word in that tone of voice to make her spill it.

            "I felt dirty," she spat, dropping her pose to rest her hands on her hips. "Now are you gonna spar or what?" Her attitude disappeared as his demeanor changed. His jaw set, the muscles clenching and unclenching, nostrils flaring with each exhale. _This is not good_, she thought, cringing. "Riddick," she said gently, reaching out to touch him, but quickly recoiling as he jerked away from her. He pointed toward the door, and she nodded, swallowing nervously.

            "Close it," he demanded, his voice quiet, but dangerous. She slammed it behind her, running down the hall to her room, and slammed that door as well before collapsing onto her bed. She didn't know what she'd said to make him act that way, but he sure as hell just scared the shit out of her. That was the look he got before he really got unstable.

            A loud crash made her jump, and she shrunk further toward the wall as she heard him destroying the dojo. Metal clanged, pads bounced against walls, equipment collided, but what scared her most was the growl. That animalistic, inhuman growl she hadn't heard since that God forsaken planet. She didn't realize she was trembling.

            And all was suddenly silent. For a long time. She sat there, straining to hear something – anything – for a good half hour.

            She couldn't handle it anymore. Going against all good judgment, she got up and opened the door, glancing around, listening. The dojo door was still closed, and there was absolutely no sound behind it. _God, I hope he didn't hurt himself,_ she thought with a worried cringe. She tiptoed toward the door, reaching out a shaky hand to grasp the knob and turn. It swung open silently to reveal a completely disheveled room. _Worse than I thought_. She glanced around, surveying the damage. _Much worse than I thought._ He was leaned against the far wall, hands pressed against it above his head, his head dropped and chest heaving. She gulped back her nervousness and moved silently across the floor, carefully watching her step as she neared him, forcing her hand to reach out and press against his back. Muscles twitched under her hand, but she wouldn't let herself pull away.

            "Riddick?" He shook his head. _Maybe I should have waited._ "Are you okay?" He was almost panting, a slight vocalization with each breath. She moved around to his side, but he turned his head, twisting his face away from her. Her hand traveled up his back to rest on the back of his neck, thumb moving slowly across his skin. "Look at me, please," she begged. His shoulder twitched, but he didn't reply. She sighed. _Well, if he's not going to look at me, I'm going to look at him._ She ducked under his arm, putting herself between him and the wall. He turned his head further away from her, but he couldn't hide the cuts he'd given himself. A couple of bruises were already starting to surface. Worry filled her eyes, and she reached up to grasp his chin. He wouldn't budge. Her patience was starting to wear thin. "God damn it, Riddick, just fucking look at me," she ground out, eyes narrowed. He finally turned to her slowly, his face screaming don't fuck with me, but his eyes gave him away.

            "Don't push it, Jack," he warned.

            "Explain," she commanded, staring back up into those sad, silver eyes. He sighed and pushed away from the wall, but she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, grabbing a shoulder to throw him back up against the wall. She was surprised she pulled it off, but figured he'd tired himself out during his little rampage. He glared at her, but it was forced. "You fucked up the dojo for a reason." Another shove into the wall for emphasis, but it wasn't really intentional. "Spill it." He heaved a sigh.

            "You felt dirty." The weakness of his voice stunned her, and she let up a little. He shook his head.

            "You don't think it was because of you, do you?" The twitch of his eyebrow and his gaze dropping was all the answer she needed. She could have sworn she heard her heart break. "Jesus, Riddick," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning against him. He tensed, restraining himself, trying not to touch her.

            "What was it then?" She pulled away from him, searching for an answer, and finally giving up, just nodding.

            "I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping away from him.

            "So it was me, then," he stated. She sighed.

            "This is new to me, Riddick," she explained.  His face twisted and he slid to the floor, head in his hands. "You didn't do anything to -"

            "What, Jack? I didn't do anything to what?" She shut her mouth, waiting for him to continue. "You don't know if you regret it, and you felt dirty. What exactly didn't I do?" She sighed and crouched down in front of him.

            "You didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly. He shook his head, a sadistic snicker shaking his shoulders. She reached out, running a hand up his arm. "You didn't hurt me." He looked up at her. She smiled slightly and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. "No regrets," she whispered. He pulled away, standing and leaving the room. She shook her head, standing and glancing around the room. Heaving a sigh, she started to pick up the mess.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

            She lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how she could fix this. A heavy sigh as she rolled onto her side, staring at the door. She could understand why he would think that. Hell, she did feel dirty because of what he'd done. She didn't hate him or blame him for that feeling. She'd just never done that before, and it felt weird. Her eyes closed as she recalled the previous night's events, suddenly feeling cold and empty in her bed, all by herself. He was awake, she knew. She'd always known he would never forgive himself if he did anything to hurt her. He'd been so worried after their first workout left her so beat up. A touch of a smile, but it fell quickly.

            Her feet carried her silently across the floor. She held her breath after the door clicked open, waiting. She crept the short distance down the hall, hand hovering above the knob on his door. Scrounging up all the courage she could find, she turned the handle and pushed into the room, just standing in the doorway. The glow of his eyes flitted over her, and then disappeared. She heard the sheets as he moved, probably shifting onto his side to face away from her as she walked to the side of his bed. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and lifted the covers, slipping under them and onto the bed next to him. The audible hitch in his voice told her she was right – he'd turned onto his side to face the wall. She scooted closer to him, using the heat of his body as a guide. Her arm looped around his side, and she pulled herself against his back, molding her body to him, feeling him tense. He felt her lips press against the back of his neck, and then her cheek against his shoulder blade.

            "Riddick?" No answer. She sighed, pressing her face harder into his back. Her hand tightened on his stomach as she gave him a squeeze intended to be a one-armed hug. "Will you look at me?" Still no answer. "Please?" Nothing. She inhaled deeply, breathing him in. His foot started to jiggle back and forth as she drew imaginary patterns on his belly, smiling at the thought of starting to get to him. She threw a leg over him, pulling herself over his body and settling right in front of him. His eyes were still closed, but he knew how close she was to him, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to lean forward just a little and kiss her. She inched forward, moving her shoulder under his arm and pressing against it, moving it under her head, bringing her face just a bit closer to his. Her hand slid up his chest and around his neck as she closed the distance between them, expecting him to kiss her back, but he didn't. She didn't give up, running her tongue along his lower lip, then gently taking it between her teeth. He inhaled sharply, but still didn't give in. She kissed both eyelids, his nose, and then his cheek before returning to his lips, but he didn't respond. This was a new challenge, and she was starting to enjoy it in an odd way. She knew he was restraining himself, and she was determined to break him. Her lips trailed down the side of his neck, twisting into a wicked smile before she bared her teeth and bit into his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. He let out a roar, pulling back from her, but she only smiled down at him sweetly. "Does this mean I have to bite you to get you to talk to me?"

            "What the hell's wrong with you?" She feigned an apologetic look, sticking her lip out in an exaggerated pout.

            "Aww," she whined, "let me kiss it and make it better for you." His eyebrow rose, but for some reason, the look in her eyes prevented him from moving away. Her lips settled lightly on the offended flesh. "I didn't bite you that hard," she commented, pausing before closing her teeth lightly on his earlobe and dragging them down until there was no more flesh left. He held his breath, keeping in the growl threatening to break. She let her lips barely touch his, just enough for him to know they were there. Neither moved, both waiting on the other. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and it was all over. He let out an explosive groan as he gave in, wrapping an arm around her waist as their lips crashed together in a frenzied, demanding kiss. She smiled against him, flattening a hand against his chest to push him away. He moaned in protest, letting his eyes open. "I win," she said, smiling slyly as she quirked an eyebrow.

            "Only because I let you," he retorted. She shook her head, making her smile drop as she flopped over onto her side. "Don't play with me, Jack," he warned.

            "And here I thought I'd gotten to you," she complained. She felt the bed move as he did, feeling him hover over her side.

            "You did." She grinned wickedly as she turned back to him, looking up into his eyes. But her smile fell quickly at the seriousness of his face. "And that's the only way anything is ever going to happen again." Her brows furled. "I'm not making another move until you make me," he continued. "I could never forgive myself if I ever thought I'd forced this."

            "You haven't forced anything," she said quietly, turning back to him. She pulled him onto his side to face her and buried her face in his neck, planting little kisses here and there. "And I'm sorry I made you think that," she added. His arm wrapped tightly around her, holding her as close to him as he thought he could without breaking her in half.  

            "So what now?" he asked quietly, pulling her into the crook of his arm as he rolled onto his back. She shrugged, settling her head against his shoulder as she stifled a yawn. He toyed with her hair, slowly lulling her into sleep.

            The sexual banter stopped. Completely. It had been three chronological weeks since their encounter, and, though they shared his bed, nothing happened. It was as though the tension and curiosity had been relieved and no longer existed.

            "Jack!" She nearly fell out of the chair. He was down in the cargo hold, tinkering with God knew what, but his yell sounded like he was right behind her, screaming her name at the top of his lungs. She gathered herself and ran down the stairs to see what had happened.

            "What?"

            "I need you to run to the store for me." Her eyebrow rose.

            "And you couldn't just walk up the fucking stairs and talk to me like a normal human being instead of scaring the piss outta me?" He grinned wickedly. She looked him up and down, scrutinizing. "You look like you're in good enough shape to go yourself, asshole." His eyebrow arched, the grin remaining, and he returned her assessing gaze.

            "So do you." Her scowl deepened.

            "Why should I go when you're the one that fucked up whatever you're holding together in there?" His smile dropped.

            "What the fuck makes you think I fucked it up in the first place?" he demanded.

            "This is you we're talking about, Riddick."

            "And your point would be…?"

            "Forget it. What am I getting?" she asked with a sigh.

            "I'll go. Never mind." 

            "No, you got me out of my chair to come down here and find out what the fuck you did to yourself, so I'll fucking go. What do you need?" she retorted, the agitation returning to her voice.

            "Why don't we both go?" he suggested. She shook her head.

            "You're the one with a fuckin' bounty on your head. I'll go." He stood there for a moment, pondering that remark. It puzzled him. "What do you want me to get?"

            "I need a box of three inch screws and a fan blade for the air conditioner motor," he said finally, hand still stuck in the metal box. No wonder it'd gotten so hot on the main deck. She started back up the stairs.

            "Yeah, well," she muttered to herself, "I need an eight inch screw and a post-sex cigarette, but you don't see me complaining about it." She knew he heard her. She didn't know why she'd said it. Something about the way he looked with some grease smeared on his face in a black wifebeater and coveralls unbuttoned and hanging off his waist. Maybe the tension really wasn't gone.

            She grabbed her bag and headed out the side door, hopping down the four foot distance to the ground with a grunt and started off. Good thing the shop was just a few blocks away from the dock.

            Riddick still stared up at the top of the steps, wondering what that comment was all about. Things had seemed to return to a platonic nature, but evidently not. He mentally kicked himself. He shook his head and adjusted the pants that seemed to have shrunk at least a couple of sizes in a few seconds. A heavy sigh, and back to work.

            Jack smirked as she walked through the aisles of the store, wondering what would happen when she got back. She'd known he'd hear her, but she didn't know if he would just dismiss it. It surprised her a little that she hoped he didn't. She picked out what she needed and headed back to the ship, hoisting herself back through the side door, which had been left open just enough for her to coax it open with her fingers. After she dropped a couple of newly purchased items on the kitchen table, she jogged down the stairs, bag in hand, and plopped in the floor at his feet, holding the bag up.

            "Get it?" he asked, rummaging through the bag. She nodded. "Good." She watched him fiddle with the air conditioner for a while, both silent except for his intermittent utterances when his screwdriver slipped and he banged a knuckle. Each time, she smiled, but didn't say anything.

            "What's wrong with it?" He just shrugged. "Is this one of those moments where you just want to play with something to see if you can make it work better or was it actually failing to do the job?" He snickered. "What?" she asked, a sincerely confused expression on her face.

            "That could be taken several ways, Jack," he said quietly, the smirk still remaining.

            "I meant the air conditioner," she said flatly.

            "I think it's starting it's slow, painful journey toward its end," he said with a sigh.

            "How morbid of you," she quipped. He smirked.

            "You know me."

            "So do you just have a fascination with death or is there an actual reason for your extensive rap sheet?" He paused, screwdriver hovering mid-turn, and looked down at her, his face unreadable. She shrugged, as though they were talking about the weather. "Just curious."

            "I'm good at it," he said quietly.

            "Granted," she said slowly, nodding her head to the side, "but is that it?" He glanced down at her again, quickly returning his attention to the task at hand. "I mean, did they all deserve to die?"

            "Most of them, I guess." This conversation was heading down a very uncomfortable path.

            "You guess?" He sighed, dropping the screwdriver and rubbing his forehead with a grubby hand.

            "Is there a point to this conversation, Jack?"

            "Just asking," she said with a shrug. He stared into the air conditioner box for a while before picking up the screwdriver again and going back to work.

            "I did what I had to do, and let's just leave it at that," he said, hoping she caught the hint to end this line of questioning.

            "What do you want for dinner?" she asked. He let out a breath of relief and simply shrugged. "Guess it'll be a surprise, then." He glanced at her, noting a sly tone in her voice.

            "Why don't we go out tonight?" he asked quietly.

            "Whatever you want to do," she said, standing and stretching. She noticed his hungry stare as she lifted her arms over head, exposing just a little flesh, and tried not to grin. _Definitely considered the comment_, she thought with a mental smirk. "You get the shower first."

            "You go ahead," he offered. She shook her head.

            "You smell worse." His eyebrow rose, but she only smiled sweetly. "I'm gonna go finish some programming shit I started before you scared the piss outta me." He nodded with a slight smile, and she headed back to the cockpit. He got fed up with the damn thing soon enough, and left everything out so he could finish when they got back, heading upstairs into the bathroom for a shower – a cold one. Once he was out, he let her know he was done and headed into his room to change. She showered quickly and did the same, and they left for dinner. "So where are we going?" she asked, strolling along side him, the sunset casting an eerie glow.

            "You'll see," he answered quietly. She scowled, but didn't ask again. He led her down the street a ways, finally ducking into a little bar and grill. Dark inside, and plenty of shined eyes. She slid into the booth, and he sat across from her, watching her eyebrow raise as she glanced around. "Miner town," he explained, sending her a look. She nodded, glancing over the menu. He paused for a moment when she ordered alcohol, but let it slide.

            For once, their outing, which was much longer than any other trip they'd taken into civilization since nearly being caught on Kallipolis, went without a hitch, and after paying, they headed back to the ship full and satisfied.

            "It's nice out," Jack observed quietly, shifting her course to walk closer to him. He nodded, glancing up at the sky and back down at her.

            "Yep." She smirked.

            "The man of few words."

            "Yep," he repeated. She snickered, giving in and slipping her arm under his, wrapping a hand around his bicep.

            "I had a good time tonight," she continued. He smiled, untangling his arm from her grasp and wrapping it around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

            "Me too." He glanced down at her looking up at him."

            "What, no 'yep' this time?"

            "Nope." She laughed, sliding her arm around his waist and hooking her thumb in a belt loop.

            "It's odd," she said quietly.

            "What is?"

            "Acting like normal people." He didn't say anything, so she continued. "Going to a restaurant, walking home," she paused, a goofy smile taking over, "sharing a sweet embrace under a cool evening sky." His shoulders shook with his laughter. "Kidding," she added with a snicker. "I'm not getting all sappy on you or anything."

            "Well, that's a relief," he snorted, rewarded with a light jab to the side. He reached out and entered the code to lower the hatch to the cargo hold, stepping onto the ramp to head inside, but she stayed behind, the thumb she'd snuck into his belt loop stopping him in his tracks. "What?" he asked, a concerned feeling growing.

            "No good night kiss?" she asked with a slight pout. His eyebrow rose, but he didn't move. She stared up at him, finally giving in and closing the space between them, leaning up on her toes to press her lips to his in a short, gentle kiss before walking past him and up the stairs. He stood there for a moment, a small smile playing on a corner of his mouth. After a moment, he closed the hatch and went up the stairs, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

            He stopped in the doorway, noticing something on the table, a grin growing as he continued forward. A pack of cigarettes was placed in the middle of the table, and an eight inch screw was lying on top of it.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

            Riddick walked down the hallway slowly, rolling that screw between his fingers, breath quickening at just the thought of what was inevitably going to happen next. His lips curled upwards slightly in a seductive (or seduced – whichever) smile, shined eyes glinting. He heard a boot thump to the floor and followed the sound into his room. She was bent over, unlacing her other boot, and he just watched as she pulled it off her foot and dropped it next to the other boot at the end of the bed. Her socks followed, and he watched as she stretched her arms over her head, arching back with a lazy sigh.

            "Is this a hint?" he asked quietly, holding the screw up between two fingers. She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk and shrugged, turning her back to him again. His eyes followed the tail of her shirt rising slowly up her back, exposing smooth, soft skin, and he had to indulge the urge to touch. The screw dropped to the floor with a quiet ping. He reached out slowly, working the tension out of her shoulders before exploring the small of her back. She sighed contentedly, and he let his hands slide around to her stomach, pulling her back against him. Her fingers interlaced with his, and she turned her head, settling her nose just under his chin. They just held each other like that for a while, until she turned in his arms and looked up at him, head cocked to the side only slightly.

            It seemed like the world went into slow motion as she leaned up on her toes, pressing her lips lightly against his, twisting a hand in his shirt. His skin tingled as her hands ran under the material, palms gliding in a feather-light touch before drawing it up his body and over his head. He watched as she took him in, tracing every scar with a light finger before leaning in to plant a kiss on the mark. It struck something in him – that she could know all the things he'd done, how he'd gotten those scars – and still want to do this; still want to be close to him. But what really struck him was that she knew him, not just what he'd done, but him, and it didn't bother him. She'd been the only person he'd ever known that either wanted to know him or he let get close enough to know him, and in a way, it bothered him that it didn't bother him.

            "Jack?" She paused in her exploration only long enough to glance up at him again, and return to her light kisses. "Why are you here?" She paused again, drawing back slightly.

            "What?" she asked, shaking her head slightly, not understanding where this came from. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. _Bad timing, Dick_, he thought. _Get all analytical right now, you big dumbass._ He reached out, pulling her against him again.

            "Never mind," he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her shoulder. She pulled out of his grasp and looked up at him expectantly, wrapping her arms around herself.

            "What do you mean, why am I here?"

            "Why are you here?" he repeated. She shook her head, not following. "With me," he clarified. Her eyebrow rose.

            "Because I want to be."

            "I know that," he said slowly, "but why?" She sighed, sitting back on the foot of the bed.

            "Riddick." Her voice had a slight whine to it, and he cringed. _Yep, bad timing alright.__ Might as well finish it._

            "I'm not exactly a saint."

            "I don't want a saint," she said quickly, looking up at him.

            "You know what I mean."

            "No, Riddick, I don't."

            "I'm a convict. A killer. You know that, and you're still here." She just looked at him. "I'm not a good person, Jack. I couldn't count the number of people I've killed on my fingers and toes combined, even if I added yours in." A little smile crept over her face, but she didn't say anything. "And you couldn't understand how much I enjoyed those kills. You don't belong with me." Her smile fell, her eyes dropping away from his. "I don't know why you'd want to be here knowing that." He sighed, running a hand over his head. "You deserve better."

            "Then I don't want better," she said quietly. He shook his head. "Who you are and what you've done are two completely different things," she continued. "If I don't confuse the two, why should you question it?"

            "Because I don't understand it." She reached out, hooking her finger in the front of his pants and pulling him closer to her. His eyes closed as she wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her cheek against his stomach.

            "You don't have to," she said quietly. His eyes opened, and he looked down at her, running his fingers through her hair. "You remember back on the skiff?" He sighed. "I asked you what we were going to say about you, and you said to tell them Riddick's dead. That he died somewhere on that planet. Right?"

            "Right." It came out slowly, uncertainly.

            "Did he?" He paused long enough for her to wonder and look up at him.

            "I don't know."

            "When was the last time you took a life?" He swallowed, but didn't answer. "Johns?" The muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched.

            "I didn't kill Johns," he said quietly.

            "So it was before the crash." He nodded slowly. "And it's been, what, over eight years now?" Another small nod. "You've changed since then. You let people in, you cared about people, so the Riddick that all those lives took is dead as well." He looked down at her. "This Riddick," she said, poking a finger into his belly, "is a good man." He shook his head, closing his eyes. "Look at me." Open, honest eyes stared back up at him. "This is the Riddick I knew was in there all along."

            He was fascinated. So taken with her reactions, he didn't even notice his own. The way her back arched, eyes squeezing shut, fingers digging into his back – it completely overwhelmed him. She pulled him down closer to her, kissing his cheek lightly as little mewling sounds coaxed a groan from him. She whispered his name, and he whimpered. He was too close for her to start doing that to him. That brought him back to reality – made him recognize he was the one there with her, doing this to her. Talk about an ego boost. She shuddered as a growl pierced the air, the vibrations of his voice drawing a shiver down her spine and a satisfied smile. Her lips pressed insistently to his, her body trembling against his as she fell over that cliff, taking him with her. The trembling remained, even as he stilled, and she held him tightly against her, hot breath blasting against his shoulder. He pushed himself up to look at her.

            "You okay?" She nodded, a lazy grin spreading across her lips. He chuckled and settled on his side next to her, an arm wrapped around her middle. She sat up, and he watched her dress slowly, her numb fingers not cooperating. "Where are you going?"

            "I have a date." His eyebrow rose. She smirked. "The deal was for an eight inch screw and a post-sex cigarette." He shook his head, smiling. She left the room, and he yawned, reaching out for his pants. He found her sitting on the hatch of the cargo hold, watching a stream of smoke swirl through the air.

            "I didn't know you smoked." She shrugged, watching him sit next to her.

            "It's a mechanic thing," she said dismissively. He nodded, shaking the pack and pulling one out with his teeth. He stuck his chin out, pointing the end of the cigarette at her and she smiled, reaching for the lighter in her pocket. She watched his eyes close, and paused until he opened them again before flicking the lighter. "Butane." He squinted, but the flame wasn't as bright as he expected. "Not as bright."

            "How sweet of you." She shrugged, watching him blow smoke rings.

            "Didn't know if you would want one, but I figured better safe than sorry." He nodded slowly. "I didn't know _you_ smoked." He shrugged.

            "It's a convict thing." She grinned, nodding. They fell silent, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, flicking the cigarette butt out onto the concrete.

            "When are we leaving?" she asked quietly.

            "After I drop the shipment tomorrow."

            "When is that?"

            "Noon." She nodded against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his.

            "I'm tired." He smiled, turning his head to kiss the top of hers.

            "Go to bed." She stood slowly, stretching lazily. "I'll be in in a minute." He sat there for a while, just thinking. Maybe he had changed after all.

            She stood at the end of the hatch, scanning the horizon. Riddick should have been back by now. She glanced at her watch again with a heavy, nervous sigh. Three o'clock. She shook her head, dropping to the ground, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her hands holding up her forehead. _Something's wrong._ Just when she was getting ready to lock up and stay low as he'd instructed her, she saw him approaching the ship, walking briskly, but not running. He glanced over his shoulder and she knew. She scrambled to her feet, running up to the cockpit to get the engines running. With trembling hands, she picked up the com unit and clicked the button.

            "Watch tower, this is the Solar Eclipse requesting permission for takeoff," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice calm.

            "Solar Eclipse, runways are full. Proceed to runway Y32 and wait for further instruction." She sighed, dropping the handset and running back down to the cargo hold, hand poised over the hatch control. He jogged up the ramp and nodded, and she turned the dial, staying behind to make sure the hatch closed and locked before heading up to the cockpit.

            "Runway Y32," she instructed. "They're all full, so we have to wait." He nodded, strapping in. "What happened?"

            "Not right now," he said quietly. She swallowed down her nervousness and strapped in. They sat at the runway and waited. And waited. The com unit crackled, and she glanced down at it, waiting anxiously.

            "Solar Eclipse, permission has been revoked."

            "Fuck!" Riddick glanced over at Jack after her outburst.

            "Please proceed to dock Z1 and prepare for inspections."

            "Roger, watch tower," Riddick said, replacing the handset. "Chill out, Jack." She sighed, rubbing her forehead nervously. "It's just an inspection. We don't have anything onboard." She glanced over at him, nervousness written all over her expression. "You look that nervous when they come on this ship and they'll know. We don't have anything to hide right now." She nodded, gulping.

            "Except you."

            "Don't worry about me," he said gruffly. She knew what that meant. If anything happened, more murders would be added to his list. "You go let them in, give them a tour, and I'll be right here."

            "Me?"

            "Yeah," he said. "You." She nodded, unbuckling her harness and standing slowly. He reached out, closing her hand in his and giving it a squeeze with a reassuring smile.

            She wiped her hands on her pants as she descended the stairs to the cargo hold, taking a deep, calming breath as she turned the dial to lower the latch. Three inspection officers waited as the hatch groaned, lowering slowly.

            "Afternoon, ma'am," one said, nodding his head. She forced a smile.

            "What seems to be the problem, officers?" she asked, surprised at how controlled her voice sounded.

            "No problem, miss," another said quickly, shaking his head. "Just a routine random inspection." She nodded. "Usually only happens when the runways get backed up though." Her eyebrow rose. "Boss figures we need the extra chores." She smiled, a little more genuinely this time.

            "What are you shipping?" the third asked nonchalantly, glancing around the cargo hold.

            "Nothing right now. Dropped a shipment of stationary off on Furia a couple weeks ago." He nodded. "Never been here before, so we figured we'd stop and do some tourist shit," she added, leading them up the stairs.

            "Enjoy your stay?" the first asked.

            "Absolutely," she answered, a sly smile growing. It wasn't a lie – but it wasn't necessarily the planet she'd enjoyed either.

            "Afternoon, sir," the second officer said, extending his hand as Riddick rose from the pilot's seat. Riddick only nodded and shook each of their hands.

            "What do you say, Jim?" the first asked. "Stand here for a couple minutes and head back?" The second officer, who now had a name, only nodded. The five of them stood there for a while, completely silent, Riddick and Jack glancing between the three officers, and the three officers just looking around the room. The third inhaled deeply and shrugged.

            "Guys?" he asked.

            "Have a safe flight, you two," the second said with a light smile. Riddick and Jack nodded and watched them go. Once they were far enough away, Jack widened her eyes at Riddick, shook her head, and followed them down to close the hatch behind them. She ran back up the steps and buckled in with shaking hands.

            "I told you it would be fine," he said quietly.

            "No, you didn't," she returned quickly. He glanced over at her. "You just told me to chill." He smiled and shifted in his seat.

            "Solar Eclipse, thank you for your cooperation," the radio directed. "Proceed to runway Y32 for takeoff, over."

            "Thanking you," Riddick said quietly, taking the controls.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

            He waited until she fell asleep in the co-pilot's chair before standing with a grimace, trying to contain the groan on the tip of his tongue. Standing over her, he paused, glancing out into the vast expanse of stars floating by lazily before looking back down at her. A slight, fleeting smile, and he shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom. The door closed silently behind him, so as not to wake her.

            With a sharp inhale, he removed his shirt, glancing down at the deep gash in his side. _How the blood didn't leak through I'll never know,_ he thought with a wince. As soon as she'd started traveling with him, he'd started carrying a backpack with an extra change of clothes and some makeshift dressings, just in case. He never thought he'd have to use them, but better safe than sorry.

            He tenderly mopped up the fresh blood, clenching his teeth as he scrubbed the dried, crusted blood from the jagged edges of the cut. A forceful sigh and a violent shudder. Getting cold was not a good sign. Pain coursed through him as he jumped, a soft knock on the door jolting him out of his thoughts.

            "Riddick?" _Fuck._

            "Yeah?" Even through the door, his voice sounded weird.

            "You okay?"

            "Yeah," he lied. It was inevitable. Her eyebrow would arch and she'd open the door. _Double fuck._ He watched the knob turn and the door swing open, revealing the crook in her eyebrow he'd known would be there. Her eyes shifted from his to the sink where the bloodied rag lay, and then to the floor, where a few drops of blood had managed to fall. She sighed.

            "What happened?" she asked, pushing into the room and sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

            "They didn't like the price." She shook her head, reaching into the cabinet.

            "Sit," she commanded, nodding at the toilet. His turn to arch an eyebrow, but he obeyed. "This is why you negotiate prices before you drop the shit off, Riddick," she said gently.

            "You can't do that with everyone," he retorted, wincing in anticipation of that damned peroxide touching his skin. He moved his arm to give her access, and she watched his stomach tighten and start to quiver as she cleaned him up.

            "This is deep, Riddick."

            "I know." His voice was strained, eyes squeezed shut.

            "Got a needle?" His eyes opened slowly to stare at her.

            "There should be butterfly bandages in there," he said quietly. She sent him a look, and he sighed. "In the med kit in the cargo hold." She nodded and stood, disappearing for a few moments. When she returned, he was leaning sideways against the counter, looking a little blanched. Her fingers trailed lightly down the side of his face, and she watched his eyes open slowly before she planted a kiss in the middle of his forehead.

            "You want the spray anesthetic?" she asked quietly. He shook his head as she threaded the needle. "Sure?" Another slight nod. She cut away some of the jagged, torn skin and cleaned the wound again, cringing as the muscle flexed in protest. Her eyes glanced up at his one more time before shaky fingers went to work on stitching the wound closed. "Why didn't you just tell me?" she asked flatly. He sighed, another shudder rippling over him. 

            "I didn't want you to worry," came his quiet response. She shook her head, tying off the last stitch. He glanced down, impressed with her work as she stood and washed his blood from her hands. Despite his protests, she taped a gauze pad over the fresh stitches and handed him a clean shirt, watching him tenderly pull it over his head. She just stood there for a moment, staring down at him, the expression on her face somewhere between anger, concern, and relief, arms crossed over her chest.

            "Don't ever do that again," she said firmly. His eyes fell from hers. "I mean it, Riddick," she insisted. He nodded and then cracked his neck. "You get hurt, you tell me the minute you walk onto this fucking ship or I won't fix you up again."

            "I can fix myself up," he growled, lifting his eyes to hers. Her gaze was just as defiant and angry as his.

            "This time you could have," she said simply. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You need some sleep." She reached out, taking his arm and giving it a gentle tug. He complied, standing with a grunt. They walked down the hall, hand in hand, and she stood over him as he crawled under the covers and looked up at her expectantly. A small smile played on her lips, but she didn't move.

            "Auto pilot's set, Jack," he said slowly.

            "I know."

            "You could use some sleep too."

            "I have a bed," she reminded him.

            "Don't be like that," he groaned, rolling his eyes. She smiled and slid onto the bed next to him.

            "I can't stay mad at you long enough," she complained, nuzzling against his chest as his arm wrapped around her.

            "See, that's a good thing," he replied, his smile soaking into his voice.

            "This isn't going to work if you're not honest with me." The smile fell from his face and he reached up to play with a strand of hair.

            "I know that," he granted quietly.

            "Leaving things out of the conversation is just as bad as lying to me, Riddick."

            "I know." Another shudder shook him, and she shook her head, pulling away to look at him, her face more serious than he expected.

            "Cold?" He shrugged, prompting a sigh. She pulled out of his grasp and left the room, returning with a glass of water. "Sit up for a minute." He moaned in objection, but still complied. "Here," she said, sticking out a hand. He held his out, eyebrow raised as two little green pills were deposited into his palm and the glass of water held out.

            "What's this?"

            "Anti-inflammatory," she said, watching him swallow the pills, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed the water. "Probably loss of blood," she guessed, taking the glass from his outstretched arm. He shrugged before settling back under the covers, a sigh punctuating the air. A sickening feeling settled in her stomach as she returned to the kitchen, setting the glass on the counter. It didn't go away, even as she went back to his room and settled on her side next to him, even as his arms settled around her. "I worry about you anyway," she whispered, running her thumb back and forth over his cheek. Those two silvery orbs appeared out of the darkness and stared back at her, and, for a short moment, she lost herself in them. "I really do," she finished with a small nod, as though she had to convince him. Her brows furled as she pressed her lips against his in a short kiss; just to make herself sure he was still there. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him, cheek resting against his. "It's days like today that make me so glad I love you enough not to do something stupid like leave you," she blurted, instantly kicking herself for not thinking of a better way to put that as he stiffened against her.

            "What was that?" he asked quietly, pushing her away from him enough for him to see her face. She didn't answer him, and didn't meet his eyes. "Jack?" He lifted her chin toward him with a finger, watching her eyes finally settle on his.

            "It's like you try to piss me off enough to make me want to get the fuck away from you, just to test me," she said with a slight smirk. He smiled.

            "Sounds like something I'd do," he granted with a small laugh. "But I'm not." She nodded, dropping her head to the pillow, eyes still locked with his. He sighed, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear. "And you said the three words." Her eyes closed.

            "It just kinda slipped out," she muttered with a shrug of one shoulder. She felt his eyes on her, and finally indulged the urge to look at him. He had a strange look on his face, and he took a breath, pausing.

            "Are you gonna take it back now?" Her eyebrow rose. _He looks genuinely scared_, she thought, hoping the shock didn't show on her face. Her eyes shifted from his down to his lips and back up before she shook her head slightly.

            "I don't have a reason to," she whispered. A moan rumbled through his chest as he pulled her fiercely against him, his lips attacking hers with renewed strength.

            "You remember that conversation we had about things I hadn't heard before?" She shook her head against him. "You said I was weird, and I said I'd heard it, and then you said I was aggravating."

            "Yeah, I remember that," she said slowly. He sighed, shaking his head and squeezing her harder.

            "What you just said to me is something I've never heard from anyone ever before," he said quietly. She couldn't help but smile and kiss the side of his neck.

            "I didn't know how you'd take it," she said quietly, smiling again at the sound of his laugh, somewhat glad he'd loosed his grip on her enough for her to shift into a more comfortable position.

            "Well, since we're making admissions here," he said, watching her eyebrow rise as the worry set in. "I was sure how I'd take it either, for a while." She shook her head, eyes pleading for explanation. "You know, I was pretty sure for a while that, uh," he cleared his throat, shifting under the covers, "that you felt that way, but I wasn't sure how I felt about you feeling that way." She shook her head again, grinning.

            "You're an ass," she whined with a smirk. He shrugged, smiling even after her smile fell. "So, uh," she trailed off, looking around the room. "Um, how do you feel about me feeling that way?" she finally stammered, glancing up at him quickly before looking away again, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. He cringed inwardly. He knew she was going to ask that, and if there was one thing in the world he didn't think he could do, it was tell someone he loved them. It was one of those admissions where he didn't want to take the easy route and just say 'ditto', or 'the same way', and the way she posed the question wasn't a way where he could just say he was fine with it. No, he knew she wanted to hear him say he loved her. He sighed.

            "Jack," he said slowly, watching her eyes fill with fear and expectation. "I know what you want me to say." Her face fell, eyes focusing on the pillow. "And just because I can't come out and say something like that doesn't mean…" he trailed off with a heavy sigh. "Shit." Her eyes closed, and she inhaled deeply, heaving it back out in a disappointed sigh. "I can't say it, but that doesn't mean…" She shrunk further into the mattress. If he kept bumbling on about how he couldn't say it she was going to go insane, just because she wouldn't know. "Jack, saying it and knowing it's there are different, right?" She shrugged. "Fuck."

            "You're making me nervous stammering like that," she said quietly, voice sounding almost as dejected as she felt.

            "I can't say it to you, Jack," he said with a sigh. "It's just something I can't, you know? I mean, I know the words, but I can't put them together like that." _Christ_, Jack thought, _this is the longest explanation of 'I'm glad you love me but I don't love you back' I could have ever guessed was possible._ "I do, but I can't." Her eyes opened, revealing a surprisingly vulnerable Riddick lying in front of her, eyes scrunched shut.

            "You do, but you can't," she repeated slowly. He nodded, a heavy sigh piercing the silence around them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "I knew you were gonna ask me that," he groaned, rolling onto his back, covering his eyes with the back of his forearm, his other arm still over her shoulder, hand flattened against the small of her back to hold her to his side. "Shit." She just waited patiently. "I do, but I can't say it."

            "Why?"

            "I just can't," he insisted, suddenly frustrated with himself.

            "Okay, so let me get this straight," she said, sitting up next to him, noticing his arm followed her movement to settle on her thigh, never breaking contact. "You do love me, but you can't say it." He didn't move, didn't say anything. She sighed. "God damn it, Riddick."

            "I know!" he exclaimed, just as irritated as she was.

            "You can say 'I do, but I can't', but you can't just fucking say 'I love you'?" He threw his hands in the air before rolling onto his side again, facing away from her. She sighed, flopping down behind him, draping an arm over his side.

            "This is as close as you're gonna get for a long time, Jack," he said quietly, shaking his head.

            "You can't just think of a different way to word it, can you?" It was more of an observation than a question. He laughed out of dissatisfaction.

            "I guess I could try." Her fingers intertwined with his and squeezed gently. "Just give me a while to think about it." She nodded, pulling herself closer to him, suddenly exhausted. Her eyes closed, and he felt her breathing start to slow. She almost jumped when his voice broke the silence again. "I care about you." He swallowed. This was easier when he wasn't looking at her. "I've never cared about anyone before in my life." He paused, holding his breath and closing his eyes tightly. "I care about you the same way you, um…"

            "You care about me the same way I care about you."

            "Yeah."

            "Can I say it for you and you tell me yes or no?" He shrugged. She gave him another squeeze, a makeshift hug. "You love me, Riddick." She made sure she didn't pose it as a question so he wouldn't be answering; only agreeing, if it was true. He sighed, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she waited, hoping he would reply. _It's not a question, Riddick,_ he told himself. _She's got it figured out. All you have to do is agree. You're not answering._

            "Yeah."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

            "Jesus Christ, Jack, I'm fine," Riddick bellowed, standing next to the ship at the port on Thuria, hands on his hips.

            "You're not getting that damn cut dirty," she said, her voice muffled by the engine above her. Only her legs were sticking out from under the ship. She stuck her hand out and wiggled her fingers. "Gimme the fucking monkey wrench." He sighed, grabbing her ankle and wrenching her out from under the engine.

            "I can change the fucking oil, Jack."

            "So can I," she returned, the force in her voice matching his. "I did this for a fucking living, remember?" He watched her snatch up the wrench and pull her leg from his grasp, rolling back under the ship.

            "You better quit treating me like I'm a fucking invalid, Jack," he warned.

            "Or what?" she challenged. He was quiet, so she rolled back out, sitting up to look at him impatiently. He only glared down at her.

            "I don't know, but you won't like it." She laughed, lying back down on the creeper.

            "You wouldn't do anything to me," she mumbled, still grinning.

            "I could withhold from you, you know." His frown deepened when she just cackled.

            "You already are," she said between laughs. "See, you keep forgetting that the cut in your side makes you too sore to do anything fun, so that's not a threat, doll face, that's a reality." He smiled, holding back a snicker. "And plus, you'd be punishing yourself at the same time."

            "I can take care of things," he said evilly. She snorted.

            "Yeah, but I think we both know I'm more fun."

            "Don't flatter yourself." If she hadn't heard the smile in his voice, she would have rolled back out to look at him and make sure he was joking.

            "Ouch," she said sarcastically. "Too bad I know you're lying." He sighed.

            "Really, Jack, I'm okay."

            "I know you are," she said, "but just take a break. You're still sore, and I don't want to have to stitch you up again if you rip something."

            "Yeah, I thought you got a little woozy while you were doing that," he said, crouching down next to her feet.

            "Actually, I did," she said honestly. "But I think it was just because it was _your_ blood." He didn't say anything, just mulled that over for a while.

            "So are you gonna let me go into town to take care of some shit or are you gonna try to take that over too?" he asked finally, watching her roll out and sit up, leaning forward on her knees.

            "Oil change is done," she said quietly, reaching out for the water bottle. He quickly snatched it out of her hands.

            "Are you gonna let me take care of things, Jack?" She glanced down at the bottle of water and back up at him.

            "I was planning on it, yeah." He nodded in satisfaction, holding the bottle out to her and smirking when she tore it from his hand. "Can I go with you?"

            "No," he said quickly. Her shoulders slumped. "It's dangerous enough letting you do other shit." Her eyebrow rose. "Go with me to pick shipments up and shit." She nodded. "You're not getting involved in this."

            "What is 'this' anyway?" she asked, groaning as she stood. He picked up the creeper and followed her into the cargo hold.

            "Guy owes me money. Figured I'd collect since we're here." She glanced over her shoulder at him.

            "I thought we were doing okay on money."

            "We are," he said. "But debt is debt." She shrugged, granting the point. He put the creeper away and followed her up the steps. "You gettin in the shower?" She nodded, peeling her shirt over her head as she walked down the hall, knowing he would follow. The rest of her clothes were discarded in a heap in the bathroom floor, and she stepped under the water, sighing as the grime washed down the drain. Her hands pressed against the tile under the showerhead, and she dropped her head forward, letting the spray beat on her shoulders, her hair falling in front of her face. She heard the shower door roll open and then closed, and felt his hands run over her back, working the tension out.

            "I don't have a good feeling about this, Riddick," she admitted quietly. He sighed, his hands sliding around her waist and settling on her belly. She pushed her hair out of her face, wiping the water away as she leaned back against his chest. "I mean, I've had bad feelings about shit before, but…" He released her so she could turn to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his chest as she heaved a sigh. "Let it go this time, huh?"

            "Jack…"

            "No, really," she pushed, looking up at him, eyes pleading. "I mean it this time. Just let it go."

            "Please, Riddick." He looked up at her, considering it one last time. She saw the wheels turning and mentally crossed her fingers. His face reflected his final decision, and her face fell as he continued his 'just in case' pack. She flopped on the edge of the bed, watching him finish packing. He zipped it shut and slung it over a shoulder, cocking his head down at her.

            "I'll be fine." Her eyebrow twitched downward, prompting a sigh. "If I'm not back in an hour-"

            "I know," she said quietly, standing to follow him down to the cargo hold. He paused next to her at the bottom of the ramp, turning to her. Sad eyes stared up at him, and for an instant, he thought about changing his mind, but didn't. He reached out to cup her cheek in his palm, leaning forward to kiss her. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she hugged him ardently, afraid to let go. He kissed her shoulder, gave her another squeeze, and pulled out of her grasp, disappearing into the darkness. She slid to the ramp, sitting down, suddenly weak.

            "So he did survive Butcher Bay." Riddick couldn't help but grin as Gunney appeared out of the shadows. "I heard a nasty rumor you got out."

            "It ain't a rumor if it's true," Riddick replied. "You got the stuff?" Gunney shrugged.

            "Eh. For an old friend? I suppose I could come up with something."

            "You better," Riddick warned, making it seem threateningly friendly. "You know how it works."

            "Yeah, okay," Gunney said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "So what are you doin' on this side of the universe, man?" Riddick watched him intently as he reached into his pocket. "Chill. It's the money." Gunney's grubby hand held out a stack of credit chips. "Figured you'd be by sooner or later, so I stashed some shit away on the off chance you'd show up sooner than expected."

            "Just knowing you made good on one promise makes me like you more, Gunney," Riddick said slowly, tucking the chips safely in his pocket.

            "Whaddaya say, man?" Gunney asked. "Drink?" Riddick waved him off.

            "I got some runs to make. Rain check though."

            "Right," Gunney snorted. "You never sleep in the same place twice, Riddick. We all know that." Riddick only shrugged, shifting to make sure the shiv he'd placed in his boot was still handy, just in case. "Hell, chances are, I won't ever see you again now that you've collected."

            "Never know, Gunney," Riddick drawled. "Never know."

            "So what are you into now? Murder for hire?"

            "Nah," Riddick said, a dismissive expression sliding over his features. "Shipping."

            "Really." No response was affirmative in prison. Everyone knew that. "What kind of shit?"

            "Depends." This conversation was drawing out way too long for Riddick's taste. "But speaking of, I do have a run to make." Gunney's eyebrow rose. "Just stopped by to check up on you." Riddick reached out, patting Gunney's cheek a little harder than normal people would have stood for. "Glad to see you made it." Gunney watched him, a hateful scowl growing on his face with every step Riddick took down that alleyway. That money was hard-earned, and would be greatly missed. Collecting debts was fair, but never went without a price of its own.

            The docking bay was in view, and Riddick moved through the shadows as quickly as he could. If anyone had, on the off chance, followed him back, they had to have lost him along the way. The ship came into sight, and he let out a silent sigh of relief. Jack was still sitting on the ramp, looking around the port. A twinge of guilt hit him in the gut when he saw how badly her hands were shaking as she lifted that cigarette to her lips. _Fuck_. _I gotta make up for this,_ he thought to himself. _I shouldn't have fucking gone in the first place_. He stepped out of the shadows and she scrambled to her feet, jogging toward him.

            She stopped suddenly, backing up slowly, a horrified expression falling over her face. He stopped as well, trying to figure out what had gotten into her, and then he smelled it. She shook her head slowly, tears springing into her eyes.

            "Richard B. Riddick." Riddick growled. "So nice of you to grace us with your presence.

            "Well if it ain't my ol' pal Cleveland," he drawled, a sadistic smile twisting his lips.

            "So who's your friend, convict?" the Merc spat, stepping out from behind a nearby ship. He didn't answer, the muscles in his jaw rippling as his hands clenched and unclenched. "You know, I always wondered what the B stood for," Cleveland continued, rubbing his forehead with the barrel of his gun. "Is it Bastard?" Two more steps forward. Jack noticed Riddick tense, ready to strike if need be. "Or could it be…" he paused for suspense "Bitch?" She was too terrified to move, and he just didn't. Cleveland continued forward, a smarmy chuckle punctuating his seeming victory.

            "Leave her out of it, Cleveland," Riddick warned, his gravelly voice low and dangerous. If Cleveland had any sense about him, that voice would have sent him running to change his pants. Too bad he didn't.

            "Oh, so Riddick finally grew a heart and found a girlfriend, huh?"

            "You know," Riddick said, watching Cleveland level the gun at him as he removed his pack from his shoulder. A smile touched the corners of his lips. _So he is nervous about taking me down._ "The last dumb fuck that messed with her got ghosted. I wouldn't even think about trying anything if I were you."

            "Oh, really." Cleveland made a show of being overly surprised.

            "I'm sure you heard about Johns." Cleveland's eyes narrowed. "Funny thing is, I got the credit for someone else's handiwork on that one," Riddick admitted, seemingly gloating that he was honored with having been blamed for Johns' departure. "If you want a chance at leaving here with all of your body parts in tact," Riddick paused, glaring menacingly at the merc, "leave her the fuck alone."

            "You keep your hands where I can see them, convict," Cleveland warned, "and I just might let you go back to prison instead of hell where you belong."

            "Cut the chat, Cleveland." Riddick's head snapped to the side, another merc appearing out of his hiding place. "Let's just collect on his asshole and get it over with." Riddick snickered.

            "Got yourself a skittish bitch, now, didn't you Cleveland?" He was vaguely aware of Jack's screams as the concussion from the nameless merc's pulse gun sent him flying, landing in a heap, muscles protesting as he tried to push himself off the ground.

            "Piece of shit," Cleveland growled, drawing his foot back for a solid kick. Riddick saw stars as stitches ripped and fresh skin split. _Damn. And that thing was finally starting to heal._ He heard Jack yell his name and then whimper, rage filling him as he turned to see the other merc grab her by the hair, pulling her head back as he pushed the barrel of a pistol under her chin. She fought, but didn't get anywhere. With a primal snarl, he lunged at Cleveland, sending them both toppling into a mass of flailing limbs as Cleveland's gun was sent skittering across the ground, out of reach.

            The animal surfaced as his fight with the merc continued – a violent, raw, ancient dance for dominance.  He finally gained the upper hand, wrapping his large hands around Cleveland's throat, leaning into him as he squeezed. Cleveland kicked and writhed under him, his face turning a bright purple as he fought for oxygen. Riddick remembered the shiv in his boot and reached for it, horror freezing him as a shot rang out. He snapped his attention back to Jack, just in time to watch the surprise on her face before she slid out of the grasp of the merc, falling to the ground as the merc stood there in shock, hands still held as though she was still in his grasp. Cleveland's arm lowered, the gun clattering to the ground, grunting as Riddick increased the pressure around his throat and drove the shiv home, the pain taking over as Cleveland's now lifeless body was torn to shreds.

            A dark stain appeared at the front of the remaining merc's pants as Riddick rose slowly, covered in Cleveland's blood. He turned slowly, stalking toward where Jack's body lay, grabbing the merc by his shirt and belt and throwing him as hard as possible. He landed with a grunt, lying there stunned as Riddick collapsed at Jack's side.

            "Riddick?" The blood in her lungs gurgled, strangling her voice.

            "I'm here, baby," he whispered, pulling her into his lap, cradling her against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead, feeling her hand clutch his shirt weakly.

            "I'm so sorry," she gasped. He shook his head, letting the tears break free.

            "I should have listened to you," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face with blood stained fingers. "I'm sorry, Jack." She blinked slowly, a tear rolling down her cheek. She wheezed, jerking in his arms. He wasn't sure if it was him or her trembling.

            "I love you, Jack," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her lightly. "I've always loved you." She smiled up at him.

            "You said it," she wheezed, more tears surfacing. He nodded, kissing her again. "I'll always be there," she continued, her voice getting weaker. "Just listen. You'll hear it." A loud sob escaped him, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers, but she didn't press back.

            "Jack?" She blinked, smiling sadly, and was gone. "Jack?" His voice sounded foreign to him – weak. He felt empty, trembling violently as he pulled her to him tightly, refusing to believe she'd died in his arms. And then everything went black.

            He woke up in chains, the sound of the engines droning loudly, the wall behind him vibrating. He glanced around. Cleveland's dead corpse was piled, twisted, in a cryo tube across from him. The thought of testing the chains was fleeting. He would die in prison. There was no reason left to escape again. No reason for him to fight for his life. Everything he cared for was dead. Jack. The thought of her still lying on the ground at the docking bay turned his stomach. Mercs didn't care for anything but their own. They'd left her there, just how she was when they'd taken him away from her body. He didn't care anymore if they saw him cry. The only person that had loved him was taken from him. The only person he'd ever loved was taken from him.

            "Never gonna get out where you're going." Riddick lifted his head. The nameless merc's uniform said his name was Riker.

            "You think I give a shit now?" His voice was thick and strained.

            "Who was she?" Riddick cringed. Past tense. Riker's fist connected with his cheek as he repeated the question.

            "What do you care?" Riddick finally returned.

            "I don't," Riker spat, grinning wickedly. Riddick felt the rage rising again, but choked it back. There was nothing left to fight for. "Probably just some dumb murder groupie whore anyway." He took a step back as Riddick lunged forward, jerked back by his restraints. "So there is some fight left in there, huh?" Riddick glared at the merc, a low growl emanating from somewhere deep in his throat. "Guess it's a good thing you're never gonna see daylight again." Riddick's eyes narrowed as he calmly sat back down.

            "You think I haven't heard that before?" Riker cocked his head. "Piece of shit."

            "No," Riker said, glaring back down at Riddick. "That's my line." Riddick continued glaring, even as Riker disappeared from the room, the animal completely regenerated. Riddick and the animal were one again.


End file.
